


Are Friends Electric?

by TeethHoarder



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, Domestic, Flashbacks, M/M, Mutual Pining, New Years, Slow Burn, more tags to be added most likely?, music based, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2019-10-29 18:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17813438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeethHoarder/pseuds/TeethHoarder
Summary: Every Year, the country representatives all gather together for a new years party. This year, it was Ludwig's turn to host. But, with hosting, comes responsibility. When he has to take a very drunk Arthur home before the celebrations have even begun, it seems to bring back far more memories than expected for the pair of them.-A fic containing mostly flashbacks into their past starting from the 60s onwards. I don't think there's entirely a plot but hey. we love people slowly falling in love in this house. and if it takes them 30 fucking years, so be it.(also forgive me this was written like a full year ago. Chapters will get better as it progresses.)





	1. Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war, German troops returned home, bringing with them music from America and the UK. These sounds were new, rock and roll had been born, and had an impact on the German youth as culture took a turn. Teenagers no longer wanted to be associated with the mistakes of their fathers, and started a not so quiet revolution.

31st December 2017 - Berlin, Germany.

Hosting the new years party for country representatives was always a difficult, if not interesting task. Everything was organised to the letter, Ludwig had gathered a wide selection of party foods and drinks with each country in mind, knowing should he miss a single detail, all hell would break loose. The venue was equally important, large enough to fit all the reps as they mingled and enjoyed themselves. He knew no party he could throw would match the lively air of America’s party the year before, but he felt something laid back would be preferable. 

And so, with his third checklist gone through, waiters to their stations, and music lined up, he was ready to face the party so to speak. 

One by one, guests entered. Some had their own dishes, naturally Japan brought a perfectly wrapped gift box of sweets, Italy somehow finding the time to make a pasta bowl - because of course Feli would bring pasta, it was more surprising that he didn’t bring several types. 

Soon enough the party was full and music was playing, people snacking and drinking. Ludwig felt a sense of pride as he watched over silently from a corner of the room. Though the night went on, he felt more and more drained. One or two drinks didn’t help to calm him like he thought, anxiety of something going wrong was almost too much. 

“Germany!” Feli’s voice sung from the crowd as he ran towards his friend, “This party is amazing! So much food I think I’m going to pass out.”  
The German gave a small laugh, amused but humbled, “Thank you, Feli. Please, try not to hurt yourself.”  
“I make no promises~” He sung before skipping off to the next person to bother. 

The night went on, Ludwig managing to get a few snacks in when he could between checking on his guests, “You should enjoy yourself more, dude!” Alfred slapped him on his back, “2018 is coming and the bar is low!”  
“A-ah. yes I will keep that in mind.” He smiled politely, while making his stiff way to the next group of people. 

A crash sent alarm bells ringing. Were his health and safety checks not thorough enough? He was one of the first to arrive at the scene, discovering a spectacularly drunk man being helped off the floor, and it hadn’t even hit midnight.  
He went to join Ivan in helping the other up, “I’m sorry.” The large man smiled, “I should know better than to challenge an englishman to a drinking contest.”  
Ludwig bit his tongue, holding back anger. This was deliberate, he could see in that sweet, smug smile. “It’s alright.” He spoke through gritted teeth, setting Arthur onto a chair.  
“I’m fine, it’s fine. We were just having a grand old time.” The Englishman smiled and waved his hand, swaying in his place, “I’m not that drunk I’ll have you know.”  
“Sure thing…” Ludwig sighed, turning to the Russian off to the side with a cold stare.  
“I think he should go home before he gets worse.” Ivan leaned over, as if undisturbed by the look being shot his way, hands behind his back to inspect the man in the chair,  
“Oi… not so close you little shit.”  
“Impossible.” he frowned, “I am big.”  
Ludwig put a hand on the other’s chest, a gentle attempt to move him back, “I’ll take him home.”  
“But Germany, it’s your party.” Feli’s voice was sad, the circle of concerned people gathering,  
“It’s my responsibility after all.” he spoke with a sigh, already positioning himself to pull the man up,  
“Then I should take him.” Alfred stepped out, about to pick the other man up, only to be swatted away with muttered cursing. The drunk man almost fell off his chair, but used the momentum to just about get to his feet, “Stop worrying about me.” he slurred, “I am fine. See.” He took a breath, and exhaled, managing to stand up straight. Everyone waited in silence. 

“I am going to throw up.” With everyone watching, Ludwig manage to grab the nearest bowl from the table, just barely chucking out what was inside in time to catch it. Not how he wanted the evening to go, but something he’d definitely missed in his careful planning. 

This seemed enough to convince the others to let him drag Arthur outside, promising Francis he would return the bowl, sterilised of course. For now it was left with a waiter as he piled the half asleep drunkard into his car and began the drive to his home, he didn’t know where Arthur was staying, and it was better to keep an eye on him. He could sleep comfortably on the sofa, though in his state, he could probably sleep soundly anywhere.

He didn’t wake up during the drive, occasionally muttering something in his sleep before shifting. It was almost sweet how peaceful he was, shame there was no blanket to wrap him up in.  
_Eyes on the road, Ludwig_ , the German reminded himself. Plenty of time to swaddle him up when they were home safe. 

By the time they had gotten into the small, yet cosy house, Arthur had woken up from the experience of being pulled out of his seat. He seemed to notice quickly as they walked through the door where he was before pushing away, stumbling over to the bookshelf and falling to his knees, searching through records.  
“Nein…” Ludwig muttered, hooking his arms under the other’s to pull him to the sofa. He resisted and continued to fight for the records. “Just want to listen…” Arthur managed, making another crawl to sift through.  
Ludwig sat on the sofa nearby, fed up of trying he decided to humour this drunk adventure. 

The Englishman pulled out something and shuffled to the record player nearby, for the sake of the record, Ludwig stepped in to place it on the turntable and let it play.  
“God I love this album.” Arthur stood, swaying a little but overall more steady on his feet, “If I remember correctly, and I always do, 1981. Possibly around November.”  
“Correct.” He couldn’t help but give an amused smile, “8th of November, 1981.”  
“Of course I know!” He spun and fell into a bow, surely something he thought was quite gracious, looking more like a boat about to tip, “OMD are my boys.”  
The crunching music sang through the air, a harsh voice somehow fitting both off key and perfectly into the tone as it lamented with tight emotion. Arthur danced along, or moved his body at least. Air guitaring along with the bass line and exaggerating the lyrics, just egging his friend to join him. And as the track moved from the roughness of _The New Stone Age_ and into _She’s Leaving_ the mood mellowed slightly.  
“Come on, Lud. Like old times.” The englishman held the other’s hands and swayed him, convincing him into some kind of movement, he felt a smile on his face as Arthur grinned, “Look! You’ve got it! Now dance you big lug.” 

 

\---- 

Berlin, Germany. 1963.

Life had been trying, after such damage everyone had taken, years had been spent in recovery. Ludwig had still been in this state, waves of dizziness, giving in to cold sweats as he hugged the toilet bowl, unable to even gag for the fear of heaving up his empty stomach. He could eat, though whether he deserved it was another question. Self punishment, he thought, for everything he’d done.  
He had isolated himself, huddled in his unusually messy home. Years had passed, he’d gotten better than he had previously, managing to eat at least one small meal a day. He didn’t quite know where to place himself amidst the mess, he felt like just another misplaced food wrapper. 

A knock on the door felt too bizarre to be real at first, he didn’t remember ordering anything. But, after some time of just staring at the door, he got up from his blanket cave, in last weeks boxers and a vest he didn’t quite remember when he last took off, to answer whoever was knocking. When no one was in front of him, he almost closed it. Just kids playing some stupid prank perhaps. Though, when he looked down, a gift was on his step. A bag with his name on it. If it was a prank, it was a good one for them to learn his name first. But he didn’t question it, taking the bag inside to inspect further. 

It was a brown paper bag with handles, his name written on the front in block capital letters with some kind of marker. Inside was a record, a couple of apples, and a note baring the same handwriting as on the bag. 

“LUDWIG, 

THIS NEW ALBUM CAME OUT. SMASHING STUFF. THOUGHT OF YOU WHEN I HEARD IT.  
KEEP THIS COPY I HAVE MY OWN.  
ALSO I PICKED THESE APPLES UP FROM A MARKET THIS MORNING AND HAD A COUPLE SPARE. ENJOY

ARTHUR” 

He squinted at it. England? Why was he giving him music? And more importantly, what was he doing here to drop it off? It all seemed like too much effort to figure out, but at least the apples looked good. He bit into one and held it in his mouth as he brushed some stuff from the top case of his record player, popping the record on before finishing his bite and planting himself back on the sofa. 

In time, he felt his feet tapping along, a pressure on his chest lifting. The first time he had relaxed in a while, it was refreshing, even just sitting there to listen, giving in to the occasional nod or sway. He felt a small smile crack across his face, it was nice of Arthur to think of him.  
As the songs continued, he read the album sleeve, these Beatles guys seemed to know a little something about a beat.

He listened to the same album for a while, repeating it on a daily basis while cleaning up around, letting himself sing along or allow himself a step or two. When the time came, he thought about those apples too, making a note to find that market Arthur had been talking about, going out would also give him the opportunity to look for more of this music. 

A record shop opened nearby he found, a bag full of apples held close to him as he looked through the window. They must have been quite big, he thought, being advertised across the whole shop with past singles and the new album front and centre. He couldn’t help but pick up a few of their older singles to enjoy, coming to dislike the silence around him. 

He continued this, years going on. Occasionally he would get a new vinyl of the latest Beatles album in the post, always with a similar note from Arthur gushing over the new sounds his country was coming up with. Ludwig felt almost unworthy of this attention, though he was sure it wasn’t just him, what with America seemingly also obsessing over them. So, although it felt rude, he never had anything he could quite reply with. He was aware of the growing interest in this new kind of music, the bands he produced were either similar or covering the sounds. Of course there were those experimental, but they were just kids for now; kids trying something new that wasn’t perfected, and perhaps not worthy enough. He hoped at least that Arthur was aware of his appreciation. 

By the time the decade was almost over, Ludwig hadn’t received his usual vinyl package. He assumed it was still on it’s way, even if he had already heard the songs. _Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band_ Played endlessly over his radio, and he was excited for Arthur to send the record for him to listen to at his own pleasure, to pick and choose the songs he wanted specifically. But, it didn’t arrive at it’s usual pointed time, it was always a week at the most after the album was released, even sometimes early should Arthur get his hands on it. 

He was ready to go out and buy it himself, scared it would start to sell out. The knock at the door made him jump out of his seat, a package surely. Just late, of course. But it wasn’t the postman who greeted him at his door, but a blond man in a leather jacket, union jack painted on a bandana around his neck. 

Arthur smiled with an awkward air, “Hope you don’t mind me delivering it by hand this time, I really think you’re going to like this one.”  
The other smiled with some excitement, stepping to one side to let him in. White pointed boots, and tight jeans that fit almost like a second skin, it was a miracle Arthur wasn’t uncomfortable.  
“Can I take your jacket?”  
“Oh sure.” He shrugged it off and handed it over, making his way straight to the record player, “I was almost scared you weren’t listening to them.” He laughed, replacing the current spinning record with his own.  
“I was.” Ludwig followed on, he had so many questions, “I just didn’t know how to reply.”  
“Well yeah, It’s pretty consistent for them to come up as number one in your charts! So I just kept sending them.” He turned the music up as high as it would go and bopped along to the sound. 

As many times as Ludwig heard this album, he felt rigid, he’d never danced to this with someone else, it felt oddly intimate. He tapped his foot and swayed slightly, watching Arthur completely let go.  
“Come on, Lud. Don’t tell me this is how you listen to them on your own. Music is better with people.” Just in time _A little Help From My Friends_ began, the other sang along, coaxing him into it. He held his hands and stepped from side to side, easing into more movement as the song went on. Soon his was loose enough to get into it, cheered on by his friend they moved together. 

The album was almost an hour long, they moved to it, swaying and spinning softly or hopping around to the varying sounds together, it was the most human interaction Ludwig had gotten that wasn’t hanging around the record shops or awkwardly standing among teenagers at concerts. He was having fun, loosening up and enjoying himself. He was the teenager at the concert, bouncing around with a friend and singing the lyrics off key. 

It finished with the two laughing, worn out and sweaty from the sudden work out. Arthur threw an arm around him while he hunched over, the only time it would fit really, “You can’t get stuff like that from being on your own.”  
“N-no.” Ludwig smiled through heavy breaths, “It’s been a while.”  
“We should do this every time one comes out, and maybe you’ll share something with me, huh?”  
“Oh I.. there’s nothing much to show.” He cleared his throat, straightening up to let his friends arm fall,  
Arthur pulled a face, “C’mon, I know you have something cooking.”  
The German moved to his kitchen to fetch something to drink, the other following him,  
“I hear there’s a real underground scene building.”  
“That? They’re just kids… experimenting.” He filled a glass and gulped it down,  
“Experimenting is where it all starts, if no one did anything different, we wouldn’t have great music.” Arthur stood against the doorframe, his arms crossed, “I feel the coming of an era.”  
“We’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can tell how old this is because the dates are 2018 new years so like RIP. But, I have a lot of it written and I think about it constantly so pls have this. Basically please forgive me from a year ago, they have improved hugely. 
> 
> anyway. I'm back on my bullshit so I hope there's not too many typos do i look like i can read


	2. Radioactiviy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Impulse decisions lead to interesting interactions and the discovery of a new type of music. hopefully it's something Ludwig can be proud of.

Berlin, Germany. 1975

The phone rang, not something unusual, but the British accent on the other end caught Ludwig by surprise,   
“How much is it costing you to call from there?”  
“Irrelevant. How come you didn’t tell me about them?!”   
“Who?” He blinked, confused whether this was a genuine anger or not,   
“Do you not listen to your own radio?! Those Krautrock lads. You know Bowie is listening to them, right?”   
“Kraftwerk?”   
“Yeah! Fun fun fun on the autobahn, that thing.”  
Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose, he hadn’t paid much attention to them, another experimental electronic band that had poked up from seemingly nowhere. “First of all, it’s fahren, it means drive. And secondly, why is he listening to that?”   
“Because it’s good! How long have you been hauling them up?”   
“They’ve been going for 5 years already.” He shook his head, “I didn’t think of them as anything important.”   
“Look, I’m at the airport now. You have to show me all of their stuff. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”   
“W-wait! Should I pick you up?”   
“I can get a cab.” Arthur hung up quickly, the dial tone of the phone ringing in Ludwig’s ear as he waited, shocked. When he eventually put down the phone he shook his head, even he didn’t own anything from this band; they were niche, labelled as kids being artsy. He had a couple of hours to hunt for the records, so he pulled on his coat and grabbed his keys and wallet. 

The record shop was more packed than usual, he had to shuffle sideways through people to get to the clerk and ask, they always saved him the new stuff, mostly whatever England had been producing. The man seemed confused at first but went to the back and brought out 3 records for him that were relatively cheap. He paid, still flustered from his surprise phone call, keeping a keen eye on the time. Plenty to get some food to prepare and and then head to the airport, he wasn’t going to let Arthur pay for a cab here, much too far. He noticed while leaving the record shop, a few people carrying the Autobahn album, assuming they’d all heard the same thing the Englishman had been talking about. Bowie, listening to some experimental band singing about cars. He almost felt a little embarrassed. 

After much trial and wondering, he decided something simple was enough for Arthur’s tastes, nothing too exciting. Steak with some chips on the side, some kind of sauce maybe, whatever they were feeling. He prepared them at home, steak marinating, potatoes cut and ready to fry, he felt more than ready to accept a guest. He looked at the clock and felt panic rush through him, he didn’t know what flight Arthur was on, he could already be at Berlin airport for all he knew. 

Traffic wasn’t as hectic as it could have been, the roads relatively clear, allowing him to speed up to the pick up zone and stand outside his car, hoping to catch a glimpse of the englishman.   
“Ludwig!” a voice called him up from his watch, he spotted Arthur waving widely, carrying a few bags. He jogged up awkwardly, a tired but genuine smile on his face, “I told you not to pick me up.”   
“A cab would be too expensive.” Ludwig returned the smile, taking his bags to load into the boot.   
“That reminds me, you don’t mind me staying at yours for a bit do you? I didn’t have time to book a hotel.”   
“You didn’t have to come down at all. Not that I mind! It’s always nice to see you.” The German felt a blush creep up his neck, he didn’t mean to sound rude,   
“It’s fine! I thought on the plane I should have called to see if it was okay first, but I got excited and well, no turning back.” he laughed, scratching the back of his head.   
“It’s okay, I’ll have to set up the guest room when we get back.” Ludwig opened the passenger door to let the other in. 

They drove relatively quietly, Arthur shifting awkwardly in his seat, “it’s so weird being on this side of the car.”   
Ludwig smiled, “It’s normal for the rest of the world.”   
“Did you just sass me? I can’t believe I’m being sassed by the one with sideburns and a turtleneck.”   
“I’m surprised you haven’t shaved off your hair.”   
“I was thinking about it.” Arthur put his feet up, “But takes an age to grow it all back you know?”  
The other scoffed, pushing the feet off his nice dashboard and brushing away the dirt, “You just don’t know what side to take.”   
“Nothing wrong with a little in between.” The Englishman winked crossing one foot over the other but keeping them off the car. Ludwig concentrated on driving after a roll of his eyes, deciding any response would result in either inappropriate jokes or some kind of snappy remark he couldn’t match. 

They reached home and Arthur threw his bags on the sofa, immediately getting himself comfortable. He stretched out wide and relaxed, sighing deeply. While he sat around, Ludwig put one of the records on, starting with the most recent album before heading upstairs to set the bed. He heard the sound turn up while he was up there, giving a small smile, how thoughtful. Humming along to the soft, memorable tune, he got the sheets out from the cupboard. They were dusty and certainly smelt it, not something a guest should sleep on. Sighing, he went to get some clean sheets from his own room, it would take too long to wash the ones specific to this bedroom, he should have thought about this. It felt odd seeing his sheets on this bed, but he took the dusty set downstairs to wash, it would be good to at least get them less stuffy. 

Arthur was sat on the sofa still, nodding his head to the calm and repetitive songs, his eyes closed like he was lost in the music. His head hung off the back of the sofa as he opened one eye, “Do you need some help?”   
“Ah. No no,” Ludwig laughed it off, realising he was staring, “I’ve had to put different sheets on your bed, these ones are dusty.”   
“Not a problem.” The other shrugged, swinging himself up to his feet, “I’ll put my bags up there so we have more room.” He didn’t wait for a response before heading up, taking the stairs 2 at a time. 

To wash the sheets, Ludwig had to go outside and around, down a set of stairs into a basement where a washing machine was kept along with all the piping. A dryer horse sat nearby with the clothes from his previous load and a basket. After loading the sheets he tested the clothes and brought them in, no use leaving them. Upon reaching the back door to the kitchen, he stopped, seeing Arthur rummaging in the fridge, “Ah, I was going to make dinner.” He smiled, gently using his foot to close the fridge door. Arthur blinked, “I’ll help then.”   
“No.” he blurted out, spine rigid. The other had a track record with cooking, and he wasn’t sure about paying for a new kitchen, “You take this upstairs.” Ludwig pushed the washing basket into his arms, “I’ll worry about the food for now.” 

Arthur stood stunned for a moment, looking a little confused, “Okay…” he drew out the word before turning and carrying the basket up the stairs, seemingly oblivious to the crisis just averted. He got to work, sleeves pushed up and apron on, this shirt was white after all, and there might be a lot of oil spitting at him. 

His guest came down just as he began to fry the chips, the loud sizzling as they were lowered into the oil seemingly calling him from the other side of the house, “Oh hell yeah.” He smiled, eyes glittering at the food as it cooked through,   
“It won’t be long now.” Ludwig nodded confidentiality,   
“Love the apron.”   
He blushed, “Ah… well I don’t want to get food on my shirt..”  
“No I get it. So you walk around in it naked in your down time?”   
The blush deepened, if there was anything in his hands he would have dropped it, “N-No! Why would you say that?”  
Arthur laughed, “I’m just joking with you! I’ll be more subdued in the future if it gets you that flustered.”  
“I’m not flustered I’m just…” an egg timer chimed in, signalling his steak was ready to be flipped, “I’ll get that.” He muttered, thankful for the interruption. 

The other man hung around him, watching the food be prepared but staying on the side lines. Had it been Feli floating around, something would have broken by now, or the constant talking would cause him to lose focus. This felt a little more calm. Come to think of it, it had been a while since he’d spoken to his old friend, Feli had left him be after he stopped answering calls. 

Since most of the cooking was just frying things, it wasn’t long before the two had carried their plates to the front room, sitting on the sofa to eat. The record still spun, gentle electronic sounds floating through the air.   
“These songs last quite a while.” Arthur spoke after pouring an unhealthy amount of vinegar on his chips,   
“Ja, I didn’t know electronic music could be so soothing.”   
“It sure is different. Not something you dance to, but relaxing in it’s own little way.”   
Ludwig smiled, maybe this was the start of something new.

After some time the records finished and the pair headed to bed, parting ways at the top of the stairs.   
“Hey, Lud…” Arthur stopped at his door, his face serious,   
“Hm? Do you need something?”   
“No, just… I’m glad you got some music too is all. And I’m glad you wanted to share it with me.”  
“I didn’t have much of a choice.” Ludwig smiled, “But if I had known you’d like it so much, I would have gone to your house for once.”   
“There’s always next time.” The man sighed but kept his smile, “Well, goodnight.”   
“Goodnight…” 

In the morning, Ludwig got up much earlier than usual, he didn’t really want to leave those sheets in the wash the entire night. He’d forgotten about them when he went to bed, but woke up thinking about them. So he got mostly dressed and headed out to grab them before they started to smell and would have to be washed again. 

As he passed, he noticed the spare room door open slightly. He was sure Arthur had closed it before, so maybe he’d gotten up?   
Ludwig chanced a peek inside, not wanting to seem creepy, but no sign of the Englishman. It didn’t seem like him to be out of bed so early. 

He didn’t think more about it, hurrying down to see to his washing. Down the stairs, through the kitchen, round the back, down more stairs, and into the basement. He jumped, faced with a person at his washing machine, the other man seemed to react similarly, only in a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt.   
“Ludwig! What are you doing up so early?”  
“You almost scared me half to death! What are you doing down here?”  
“T..trying to work your washing machine?” Arthur shrunk a little, hands up in defence, “I drooled a little on the pillow, thought I’d wash it out.”   
“Drool? You could just wipe that with a towel…” Ludwig sighed, at least he had been kind enough to set the sheets out to dry before messing with the machine.   
“I just wanted to be sure.” He laughed awkwardly, “could you show me how it works?”   
“You’ve messed with my settings.”  
“I couldn’t find the on button, blasted thing is unclear.”   
“It’s the big round button that says ‘on’, honestly, did you even put any detergent in?”  
“Y-yes!” Arthur jumped to stop him from opening the machine, slamming it closed with all his weight, “I got that part down it just needs to turn on.”   
“You’re acting like a kid who wet the bed.” He raised an eyebrow, starting to doubt this drool story,   
“Look, it’s just the pillow cover and a bit of spit, no need to say insulting things.” the englishman’s face was pink, whatever did happen was certainly getting him flustered.  
“Whatever you say.” Ludwig switched the machine on and it hummed to life. His arms crossed, he looked down to the smaller man in front of him, “Get dressed. That nice market is open today, it would be a shame to miss out.” 

The market today was quieter than usual due to the cold weather, some stalls open serving warm food and drinks. It was almost winter, soon enough this market would be booming with christmas cheer and warm spirits. As they wandered, Arthur stayed close, only peering at the stalls while keeping his pace at his host’s side.   
“You can stop to look at things, you know.” Ludwig stopped to suggest,   
“I’m just getting a good look around before I decide on something.” He spoke proudly in reply, keeping his hands in his pockets and tucking his face under the union jack scarf he seemed to live and die in, “Makes me think of some of the markets back home.”   
“Are you cold?”  
“I’ll admit leather trousers aren’t very weather appropriate.”   
Ludwig smiled, managing a small laugh, “Well let’s get something to eat to warm you up.” 

They found a stall serving hot drinks and some warm pastries, all very sweet. But they sat on a nearby bench and watched the people drift by, each with a cup and a half packaged bread roll, hardly a meal, but it stated them for the moment.   
“Have you ever been to Greenwich market?” Arthur asked, having finished his roll and moved onto sipping his tea gently,   
“I can’t say I have.”   
“Lovely little place, always bustling.” he nodded to himself, “Plus there are tons of record shops around, and it’s right by the Thames.”   
Ludwig’s ears pricked up, “Sounds nice.”   
“It is. I always found Greenwich to be a break from a lot of the grey in London.”  
“You’ll have to show it to me when I come visit you.” Ludwig smiled, leaning back against the bench,   
“I think I will. That and Camden is quite the stir.” Arthur grinned as he lifted himself up, stretching up from his leather jacket, his shirt lifting slightly. It was enough to make Ludwig avert his gaze before finishing off his coffee, “I look forward to it.” 

They walked for another while, eventually reaching the record shop Ludwig frequented in his spare time, it was only yesterday that it had seemed busier than normal, but today it was practically full to capacity. He cringed, hoping to show Arthur around the little shop.   
“No way…” The englishman breathed, rushing to the window and promptly pressing his face to the glass. 

A new album. 

Ludwig was confused, if not a little awestruck. This must have been the reason behind the crowd, though late in the day he imagined this was the tail end of it.   
“They’re very popular…” He blinked in surprise,   
“We have to get it.”  
“Wh…” Before he could protest, Arthur grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the already jam packed store, swerving them through several people to find where the record would be standing. But the crowd had already moved on, leaving not even a single record on the stand. 

It didn’t take much to see the obvious upset this caused the Englishman as his shoulders sagged. “I guess I can always get it at home.” he sighed,   
“Why don’t you look at some of the other records?” Ludwig offered his comforting words, “We’ll get something to listen to tonight.”  
“I suppose.” Arthur moved like a particularly put out ghost, slinking through the people to look at other - less important records in his mind. 

His German counterpart however, took the opportunity to head to the counter. A moody teen collected people’s money and offered pins, wishing people to come again shortly.  
“Excuse me, where’s your manager?” Ludwig asked, feeling a tinge of awkward air as the teen’s eyes widened slightly. Whether it was the man’s large stature or the promise of calling the manager, he seemed terrified, “did I do something wrong?”   
“No no!” Ludwig frowned and shook his head, “He’s a friend of mine.”   
Just as he mentioned him, the manager came out from behind a beaded curtain, greeting Ludwig with a warm smile.   
“I was hoping you might have saved something for me…” He spoke once greetings were over, keeping his voice low,   
“You’re after that new album?” The manager nodded, “I thought you might be, you were buying their other stuff just yesterday.”  
“Yes, a friend of mine enjoys their music a lot.”  
“They’re very popular at the moment. You stay right there.” He dipped behind the curtain again, just in time for Arthur to squeeze through, holding a few records in his arms. “Queues a bit much.”

Ludwig smiled a little awkwardly, feeling very much in the way. That was only to be amplified when two giggling teens stepped up to them, addressing mostly Arthur.   
“What are they saying?” He asked, looking over to the man next to him,   
“They think you must be a celebrity from the UK, they want a picture…”   
“Oh!” Arthur gave a devilish smile that almost made Ludwig’s eyes roll so hard they’d end up at the back of his head, but he held the records regardless as the teens held up one of the newest Polaroid cameras and took a snap, the bright flash uncomfortable on everyone’s eyes. They didn’t take just one, both girls pressing their lips against Arthur’s cheeks for one more shot. Ludwig felt a twinge of annoyance pull at his chest, looking back to the beaded curtain to wait for his own records. 

The girls left, just as giggly as they were when they approached, eager for their films to develop.   
“Well how ‘bout that?” Arthur grinned, taking back his records, in a much better mood it seemed.   
“You have lipstick on your cheek.” Ludwig muttered in reply, the manager parting through to greet him again. The Englishman was too busy wiping at his cheek with his sleeve to notice what had been put in the bag, but the exchange of money piqued his curiosity.   
“Are you going to pay for yours?” Ludwig asked,   
“Yeah… I’ll just get in the queue.” 

They left quickly, as soon as Arthur was done with his purchase, it was almost a race to catch up with the German, speeding his way through the crowd and onto the street. From there he continued, never stopping or slowing down once.   
“Where’s the fire?” Arthur frowned as he finally managed just about to stay at the other’s side,   
“Nowhere.” was the reply he got, short and sharp, unusual.   
“You jealous that those girls thought I was a celebrity?” He grinned wickedly,  
“Not at all.”   
The grin fell, “Something’s up.”   
“We should think about dinner.” Ludwig stopped the conversation going any further, it wasn’t important after all, just pesky emotions getting in the way as they always did.   
Arthur blinked, but decided to let it be, “Cooking again or a restaurant?”   
“I do prefer a home cooked meal…” Ludwig hummed, “I might have something in the fridge.”   
“Well we can check and if there’s nothing we could eat out somewhere…” 

Ludwig was still recovering from the crowds of the record shop, and so he was eager to stay at home. Though his fridge was usually so well stocked, he was struggling to find something to make, every idea was missing at least one vital ingredient.   
“Why not get a takeaway?” Arthur suggested, “Indian?”   
The other couldn’t help but feel relief, no going out to a crowded restaurant to be immediately drained of all energy. He agreed, trying to find any menus he may have had hanging around that got pushed through his letter box recently. 

The day and indeed the night went on much the same as the last, They would sit, eat, talk about music. Arthur seemed incredibly interested in some of the weirder stuff that was being produced, waxing on about this new era he saw coming on the horizon - or at least peeking it’s way through subcultures. For a man so in between his own, he sure liked to focus in on them. He spoke about the anarchists, punks, mods, each he had his own run in with - it was a miracle he had found time for work between these stories he would tell. Ludwig didn’t have much to speak about in that sense, of course he had such things in his country, but he either didn’t find the time or the confidence to really take part. Friends weren’t really something he had. 

“You seem to get out a lot.” He smiled politely, if not a little nervously when he could get the words in,   
“Well, not much else to do.” Arthur replied with a shrug, sprawled out on the sofa as always - taking up half the entire thing and leaving the German to sit with his knees together awkwardly.   
“They don’t listen to me really, starting to think I should move closer to the capital, you know?”   
“Oh, right…” Ludwig gave a nod, briefly remembering the Englishman’s country home. He hadn’t seen it since the 1800s surely. But he remembered it to be grand, settled somewhere idyllic and pretty, away from the London smog.   
“What about you? You get any shit from your government?”   
“It’s… much the same. I’m only called in to be filled in on what’s going on, or read through paperwork. Otherwise I don’t really get up to much other than music and housework…”   
“What you need is a hobby.” Arthur sat himself up, leaning on his knees,   
“Music is a hobby.”   
“Yeah, kinda. I mean something productive. Like knitting or painting.”   
Ludwig scoffed, not meaning to be dismissive of the idea, but really, nothing he could think of took his interest, “I can hardly see myself doing something like that.”   
“Why not?” The other frowned, “I embroider. Just something to do ain’t it?”   
“You what?” He could hardly remove from the amusement in his voice, watching as Arthur stood, grabbing his worn leather jacket from the hooks nearby.   
“Call me an old man but it’s calming. See? I made these.” Each patch he showed off was quite intricately done, neat and well crafted, they could be mistaken for store bought. Ludwig was certainly impressed, but the image of the punkish man in front of him sitting there with a needle and thread, spending hours creating these unique designs, was almost laughable.   
“Well, I am impressed.” He nodded, running a thumb over one of them,   
“That’s what you need.” Arthur pointed, “A hobby. Something to do that isn’t cleaning an already clean house. I dunno, get a dog or something.”   
“A dog is a commitment.” The German spoke rather sternly, “Not a hobby.”   
“Okay well, the point still stands.” 

Arthur sighed as he threw himself back on the sofa, silence breaking through them, leaving little space for comfort. At least, that’s how the German on the other side of the sofa seemed to take it. He shifted in his seat. He hadn’t had a hobby in a long time, beyond gardening and now cleaning his home, all he could do was get lost in music or read. All of which left a lot of this silence, somehow, music sounded better when he had someone to enjoy it with. 

“Maybe you could come to the UK sometime.” His friend sat up again, that light grin on his face was contagious, and as he laid a gentle yet boney hand on Ludwig’s arm, he found himself catching on and returning it – with just a little more hesitance.   
“Maybe I will.” 

-

Sometime quite late, Ludwig found himself standing by the phone in his house, planted against the wall by the stairs. He didn’t mind phone calls, they were often unnecessarily awkward, but nothing he couldn’t handle. However, he had never really been the one to start the call before, and as it was late, he wasn’t sure it would be received. 

The phone number was written on a scrap piece of paper torn from a sketch book, old but not enough to be wrong by now. He was sure that the person it belonged to, if he had moved or changed numbers, the German would be the first to know. But still, he held it in his hand, nervous. It had been left by the phone one day, left untouched until he was cleaning around, then stashed away. 

After the courage was built up enough, he pulled the phone off the hook and punched in the numbers. No turning back now. He sat on the stairs once the ringing had started, his knee bouncing with nerves. He couldn’t hang up, but maybe he should. The longer it rang the more he realised how late at night it was. Perhaps this was better left until morning. 

The ringing in his ear stopped, a particularly tired voice sounding over the phone made him freeze before finally stammering out his greeting.   
“F-Feliciano?” 

What greeted him was loud enough for him to pull the phone an inch away from his ear, but he couldn’t help but laugh, those nerves melting away to some happiness, the kind that threatened to bring tears to his eyes.   
“Yes, it’s me… It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I proof read this? yeah like a couple nights ago. please do point out my typos because I can never spot them until it's too late. 
> 
> Also you may not have noticed but I'm naming these after albums that were either released in that year or have some relevance. but usually the album of that year is relevant anyway. 
> 
> More notes because I'm a nerd and was in the Kraftwerk fandom for far too long; a lot of people who didn't speak german thought the song Autobahn was "fun fun fun on the autobahn" because Ralf Hütter had a very odd pronunciation of fahren. more about that band later because I know too much.


	3. Electricity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How much do international phone calls cost? it looks like everyone's answering their phones today. This time, with a special guest and the world's worst wingman.

Berlin, Germany. 1977

As much as he disliked silence, guests were always a stressful time. Over the years, Ludwig had only had one person over on the odd occasion when they shared their music together. He loved those times, but he had to admit; preparing for someone to visit was stressful enough. Clearing the guest room, organising towels, making sure there were options of food – this mattered most of all today. 

While Arthur was easy to please and seemed to enjoy anything put in front of him, this week’s guest was far pickier. He knew not to be too nervous, this would be easy as it always had been. But he hadn’t seen Feliciano in years, part of his isolating himself. Truth be told, he didn’t really know what to expect, or if the experience of the aftermath of war had hardened the squishy Italian shell. 

All of these ideas vanished suddenly when he opened the door and was immediately assaulted by a pair of arms wrapping around him as tight as they could. It was a feeling he knew well, and a very nostalgic one. He could barely get a word in already as greetings were fast and his face was grabbed and squished. Eventually two very excited kisses were pressed into each of his cheeks, and his wrist was grabbed, pulling him inside. 

“Wow! This place is really different to your old one.”  
“Yes. It’s smaller.” Ludwig couldn’t fight back the fond smile as he closed the door, “Do you need me to take your bags?”  
“Ah! We can take them up later. First, you have to tell me absolutely everything!” Feli swung his backpack off his one shoulder and pulled out a bottle of wine, “See! Perfect.” 

The entire time he was there, Feliciano didn’t seem to calm down; sitting neatly on the sofa with wide eyes prepared to listen, and somehow able to talk for lengths of time without breathing and half a bottle down. While he talked, Ludwig took note of the outfit he had on. Fashionable of course, but it seemed so different from his old uniform. A silky, light tan shirt that was half way open, white trousers, and pointed Italian shoes – even a neckerchief tied around his neck like some cowboy. Truly only something Feli could pull off. 

“But, what about you?”  
The question made him snap away from the distraction of clothes, “what about me?”  
“I’ve been talking all this time about me and what I’ve been up to, I want to know about you!” Feli drank the last of the wine in his glass and set it down, shifting himself closer so he could take his friend’s hand in both of his, eyes sparkling as he held it to his chest,  
“I hear someone’s been talking a lot to a mister Britain~” 

Ludwig fumbled for a moment, feeling a bit of heat rise in his face, “It’s not anything like that…! We share music is all. It’s been very helpful.”  
“Share music? Is that all?” He leaned in, a teasing tone in his voice, “Are you sure~?”  
“Y-yes!” the German took his hand back, turning his attention to the glass he was holding. While he admired Arthur, this implication was unfounded. He couldn’t possibly. 

“Hm. It’s not that I don’t believe you, Ludwig.” The Italian began, smoothing his hands over his trousers, “It’s just that, you’re not really the best at picking up things like this.”  
“What do you mean?” Ludwig frowned,  
“Social queues, people flirting with you. It happens all the time, and no wonder with a big muscly man like you.”  
He was poked quite painfully in the shoulder, causing his frown to only deepen as he shrugged it away. It was hard to believe that anyone found him attractive, he was average at best. Or at least, that was how he saw himself; nothing special. And certainly not special enough for a former empire to court. 

Ludwig stood, drinking the rest of his wine and heading to the kitchen to wash out the glass. This was where he got most of his thinking done. Dishes were oddly therapeutic. However, he was followed, a particular Italian hopping up on the side next to the sink, his legs crossed as he leaned back against the large window.  
“I mean; I was trying all of my best tricks with you during the war.”  
“You were what?”  
“Nothing.” Feli waved a hand, sweet smile on his face, “Let’s start with something a little more simple. How does he make _you_ feel?”  
“This isn’t about my feelings for someone, we share music. That’s it.” The German huffed, grabbing a hand towel from the side to begin drying the glass before opening the cupboard beside his friend’s head to replace it back. This was becoming quite tiring, he’d had enough socialisation today. 

“Okay. So, pretend I’m Arthur. Just for a little while.”  
“This is stupid.”  
“You’re not only bad at other people’s emotions, but you’re terrible at understanding your own. Believe me, I’ve known you long enough. So just humour me.”  
Ludwig sighed, closing the cupboard to look the Italian in the eye, face clear he wasn’t interested in this game.  
“Fine. Now what?”  
“Okay so, I’m Arthur. If we were sitting on the sofa, I don’t know… listening to the newest Bowie album, and I took your hand. Like this.” Feli reached over delicately, despite being higher, his fingers trailing down his friends arm to eventually take his hand. The whole time, the German he experimented on looked away. While not interested, he might as well try to picture it. He probably wouldn’t be able to look either way, as his fingers became entangled, he felt that heat rise up his neck again, other hand balled into a tight fist.  
He was slow, fingers lightly brushing over the skin as he held the arm to him, bringing it to his cheek, and soon around to his lips. Before he could set a proper kiss down, Ludwig tore his arm away.  
“I get it.”  
“Were you picturing him?” 

The German swallowed, aware of the burning at his ears and the dryness of his throat. He was. Of course he was. That obnoxious laugh, that devilish grin, those bright green eyes. How could he _not_ be picturing that? Should he allowed Feli to go any further with this he might have had a heart attack with how hard it was beating in his chest. This was stupid. All of this was just silly, it wasn’t because he had some kind of crush, anyone would get flustered at the thought of that. 

“Enough of this, Feli.” He spoke as he turned, rubbing the back of his hand, “I’m going to bed. We’ll go out shopping tomorrow.” And off he went, still feeling his heart beat unsteadily as he climbed up the stairs quickly, as if he was trying to escape the embarrassment. 

Such a deep reaction, as subtle and restrained as many would see it, Feliciano slid off the kitchen side. He knew his friend well, well enough to gather just what such a reaction could mean. Ludwig was someone who very rarely showed much emotion, hard shelled and proper, the mind of the soldier he had been raised to be, but these little lapses gave much more that he would like to have shown. 

His fancy shoes clicked on the tiles of the floor as he walked back through the kitchen, hands in his pockets. As he moved from hard floor to the carpet of the living room, he listened out, hearing the faint sound of water falling in the shower upstairs. Quietly, he poured another glass for himself and stepped towards the stairs, peering up as he took a sip. 

It was clear to Feli that this long time friend of his was very unlikely to act on his own, difficulty with social queues and general awkwardness seemed to hold him back. So, with the knowledge that he was showering – possibly for a while – Feliciano picked up the phone, holding it between his ear and shoulder as he pushed in a number he knew all too well. Hopefully Ludwig wouldn’t mind the international call on his phone bill. 

“Ciao, Francis~” He lightened up, but kept his voice down best he could, taking the phone in his hand,  
“Oh, this is a surprise.” The French accent on the other end sounded, “What are you doing calling me at this hour?”  
“I was actually hoping for a little advice.” He smiled, taking a generous sip,  
“Advice? Well I have plenty of that…”  
“Sì sì, this especially. You’re a bit of an expert on Arthur, aren’t you?”  
“Well I wouldn’t call myself that. He’s just very easily wound up.”  
Feli hummed, swirling the wine around in his glass, “If someone were to… I don’t know, get into an... agreement with him. How would they go about that?”  
“Something tells me this isn’t your normal agreement. What’s prompted this, little Italy? Don’t tell me you’re going after that stuffy old man.”  
“Um… not exactly.” He laughed lightly, feeling somewhat awkward. 

He couldn’t exactly be obvious, perhaps this wasn’t entirely thought through. If it was known by one person that Ludwig was crushing on someone, it would easily get out to everyone, and then Lud would never forgive him. No, this required tact. And sacrifice of his taste. 

“If I were to though, how would I do it?”  
“Eh? Well, you do sound sure…” Francis sighed, “I suppose he reads a lot of romance novels, something like that would easily sweep him off his feet. But really, he gets touchy when he likes someone, you’ll be able to tell…”  
“Really? What kind of touchy?” The Italian spoke a little too loudly, immediately looking back up the stairs to make sure he wasn’t heard.  
“Well he doesn’t usually like people in his space so any kind of touchy. But I suppose just little things like your shoulder, then he’ll make his way down-“  
“Got it.” He cut in, cringing. This was far too deep for his tastes.  
“Are you sure?”  
“Definitely.” Hoping the disgust didn’t sound in his voice, he went back to his wine. Arthur was absolutely not his type, and frankly, he didn’t see what Ludwig saw in him. Maybe after some time he might find out, but it wasn’t time he was willing to put in. 

“Very useful. Thank you for letting me know.”  
“You’re really sure you want to go after Arthur? Is this something political?”  
“No no! just general interest, that’s all.” He laughed it off, listening out to hear the shower water shut off. “I have to go, thank you for the advice!”  
“Of course, any time but-” The phone was hung up before he could finish. 

\---

Liverpool, England. 1978

For such a late night, the streets were still full of life and laughter, distant cheering and singing from a bar a way away. But Arthur stood closed off in a telephone box, trying to count how much change he had in his pocket. The phone stayed pressed against his ear as his scrambled to get as much as he could for an overseas call. It just couldn’t wait until he was home, or even back at his hotel. 

He let the phone ring out, anxiously tapping his foot. The energy of that night still crashed through him, rattling his bones with delight and a weird kind of adrenaline. He still found himself humming the tunes as they played in his head, waiting for someone on the other end to pick up. “Come on…” he urged. He wasn’t made of money after all, he couldn’t stand here and wait for Ludwig to pick up. 

Just before he gave up, a tired voice came through the speaker. Drained and obviously just been woken up, but there was no time for apologies.  
“Lud! It’s Arthur!” With all this excitement he could hardly hold down the level of his voice, feeling like he more or less shouted his greeting down the phone. No time, no time, “Look, I’ve just found something amazing.”  
“Can it not wait until morning…?”  
“No! I’ll explain.”  
“Quickly.” 

Arthur leant one arm against the bulky pay phone, relaxing his posture against it. He was bursting with so much excitement that his chest tightened and he produced what could only be described as a squeal, “Ludwig I have just heard the most amazing band! They were playing in Liverpool tonight. Don’t know why I came here, fate I guess.”  
“New music, huh?” The sound of that voice was not as impressed as he would have liked,  
“No, you don’t understand. These lads, proper good. Saw them down at Eric’s-“  
“Who’s Eric?”  
“It’s just a bar- don’t think about it too hard. They had this set up, I think you’d like it. One guy had two synths and the other on bass, behind them was this funky recorder thing.” Arthur couldn’t help but grin with excitement, surely the sounds of something more electronic would get his German friend just as excited,  
“That does sound interesting… what were they called?”  
“God, it’s proper long, had to write it down.” He peaked under his sleeve at the smudged pen, “Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.” He recited. 

There was a pause, one that made the Englishman fear he had run out of cash in the phone box and had been cut off, but the voice on the other end sounded again,  
“That is the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.”  
“Doesn’t matter, they’re fucking brilliant.” He beamed, “Listen, Lud. I’ve got high hopes for them, had a chat. They’re massive fans of Kraftwerk, they sound similar! Just a little less…”  
“Robotic?”  
“Yeah! Thought you’d give ‘em a go… Maybe come to my place and try them out.” 

Something strange happened when he suggested that, the tightness in his chest didn’t quite feel like it was about just sharing music. Though time moved so quickly for those their age, it had been a few years since they could properly get together and listen, instead left to gush about it in letters or phone calls when they managed the time. He was excited to see his friend again, and that thought left him a little calmer in the closed in box. 

“Ja. That would be nice… I could bring some of my records too.”  
Arthur smiled fondly, looking down at his feet, “I’d really like that.”  
“Me too.”  
He bit his lip, something about how soft that sounded caught him off guard, and yet it felt so warm and familiar. “Alright… I’ll get you when I have some of their stuff. See you then…”  
“See you then, Arthur. And get some sleep.”  
“Aha. Yeah, I will. Thanks, Lud.” 

He waited to be hung up on first before placing the phone back on it’s hook. Even then he stayed there a little longer, still humming that little tune he had heard, stupid smile on his face. Yeah. This was going to turn out a really good time.

London, England. 1981

A phone rang in this relatively new house. Old in design, but it’s owner wasn’t entirely used to it yet. He had only just moved in after all – sure it was a few years ago now, but that was hardly enough time to sort through half of the clutter he had collected from that old house. He had to leave his portraits behind, the staff promising to upkeep it. It was an old royal estate, he had no doubt. But this house was more of a home. 

Warm wooden floors with some stylish rugs about, exposed wood here and there, and multiple floors, including a basement and loft space. It just felt far more cosy and comfortable that the open estate, which was proper and up tight. 

Arthur had to lean over a stack of books uncomfortably to grab the phone, expecting it to be an instruction to pick his friend up from the airport. He had been cleaning all day in preparation, nothing would ever compare to the spotless state of the German’s house, but he could get close enough that was satisfying for him. 

However, what he found on the phone left him too stunned for words, jaw slack as he listened to his instructions. Sure enough, the books he was leaning on gave way, sending him crashing forward. It seemed to knock the words out of him however,   
“What do you mean Sealand is here?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter than I normally go for. and i'm very aware this was mostly phone calls. sometimes it be like that. BUT. set up for a nice little month long holiday with an annoying yet endearing child. I'm sure they'll have time to talk about music... right? 
> 
> AN: music history time! OMD are a band that were heavily influenced by Kraftwerk. the lead singer Andy McCluskey said that their 1979 song 'Electricity' was just a sped up version of Kraftwerk's 'Radioactivity' essentially. I don't know all that much about them, I have a friend who knows way more than I do and can probably go off if need be. But I know they were basically big fanboys. 
> 
> Kraftwerk's drummer Wolfgang Flür left in 1981, followed by Karl Bartos in 1990, and then later Florian Schneider in 2008/9. Ralf Hütter is the only remaining member still focused on the band, although they haven't produced anything particularly new for a while. 
> 
> THAT will become vaguely relevant later. just know that late 70s/ early 80s, Kraftwerk kinda fell off the radar. And since we're moving on the timeline through the 80s, let's keep that in mind..


	4. Architecture and Morality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Children are a real pain in the ass.

Gatwick Airport, London. 1981

By now, Ludwig had been waiting at the airport for somewhere over an hour. He had attempted to call once he got free of checking his bags out and the like. Him and Arthur had planned a month long stay, this way they could have plenty of time to discuss the music and go sight seeing. This made Ludwig very excited of course, he hadn’t seen much of London apart from on maps, it was quite weird to be there now, watching busy holiday makers go by. Now, Arthur lived in the city, it would be easier for them to travel around unlike his previous estate where there wasn’t much to do other than drink tea and sail on the lake. 

However, he had been waiting for quite some time, and never did manage to get a call through to his friend who was supposed to be picking him up. If he could get a cab, he would. But he didn’t know the address, and if Arthur was simply running late, it would cause far more confusion than necessary. So he just sat on a bench near the pick up area, chin rested in his hands and eyes watching a clock anxiously. 

Finally, he looked up to see a car stop just in front of him, the driver stepping out in all his leather clad glory, a very apologetic look on his face.   
“God, I am so sorry, Lud.” The Englishman shut his car door, heading around to help with Ludwig’s bags,   
“It’s no problem.”   
“No, it is. I left you for ages.” He led them quickly over to the car, “There’s a little… issue in our plan.”   
“What’s that?” 

As if the question was heard from inside the car, a little pair of hands smacked the back window, waving when he was given attention.   
“This is Peter…” Arthur slammed the boot shut, cases snuggly inside, “He thinks he’s… one of us.”   
“A new country?” The German frowned, feeling awfully like he was looking at a creature in a zoo,   
“No, not at all. This is Sealand, an old fort. They declared independence in the 60s.”   
“Oh. Sealand… I see.” 

Something about that spread a bad taste over his mouth, whether it was the thought of spending the time he was looking forward to being relaxing with a second world war fort and be reminded of such a painful time, or the memory of the shit he had to deal with in 1978 because of this child, he couldn’t tell. Having to send a government official to negotiate the release of a German citizen, all for the sake of being recognised. It tired him now just thinking about it. 

Because of this thought that must not only have rested on his mind, but Arthur’s too, the car ride was relatively quiet – if you didn’t count the bouncing child in the back seat. Every so often their driver would shoot an apologetic glance his way, this of course made Ludwig feel that pang of guilt. Clearly it wasn’t the Englishman’s idea, and they had been planning this for a while. With a child between them, how were they to really talk? Were the places they wanted to go child friendly? 

Ludwig turned behind him, a smile on his face that begged him not to sound rude, “Peter, right?”   
“Yep!” Peter hopped in his seat, eyes wide with excitement, “I’m the principality of Sealand, and you’re Germany! I’ve heard all about you.”   
“That’s nice.” He cut in quick, “How long are you staying?”   
“Oh.” The child blinked for a minute, it seemed he didn’t take too much offence, more confused as to why he didn’t want to talk about country things, “Well, when I got here, all of the officials wanted to see my passport, so I showed them and they wouldn’t let me in.”  
“It’s not a valid passport.” Arthur sighed from the driver’s seat, “He has to stay until we can get him and English one. Luckily, I can get it quicker than usual… But the government has more important things to do than look after a child.”   
“So how long…?”   
“Three weeks.” He pursed his lips, “Not the whole month but certainly a lot of it.” 

This news made Ludwig’s shoulder sag. That _was_ a good portion of their time, and he had been so excited to hear this band Arthur had been raving about. While this really cut into their plans, there was no choice, the best he could do was try to enjoy it, and after those three weeks, get the alone time he wanted.   
“Pleased to meet you, anyway, Peter.” He spoke behind him again, while heavily aware how awkward he sounded. The child beamed anyway,   
“And you too mister Germany!”   
“Please... call me Ludwig.” 

While the car ride wasn’t overly long and the radio played the top songs of that year, Ludwig sat mostly trying to think of how they could include Peter in their time together. Of course, by the time they pulled up to Arthur’s new house, he had completely overthought the situation and now quietly had an exact schedule, not that it would work, most plans never do of course. Not when children were involved – nor Arthur’s chaotic energy for that matter. 

The house had two sets of large gates in front of it, in a fancier part of the little town they had found themselves in. It wasn’t overly fantastic, the gates opening into a gravel drive for Arthur to park his car in front of the larger house. It was mostly tall, giving off a grand energy of a middle class estate without the expanse of land, just happy in it’s small square of space. 

Peter was the first out, skipping up the steps to the front door and jumping as he waited to be let in. Arthur followed with his keys out, “It’s not as fabulous as the old place, but it’s closer to work.”   
“I like it.” The German smiled as he helped remove his cases, “It’s comfortable.”   
“Wait till you see the wine cellar.”   
“Of course.” He could barely stifle an eye roll as he dragged the heavier case up the steps. He could have taken both of them had the Englishman not grabbed the other one so quickly. 

The inside of the house was warmer, a rustic wood floors and soft lighting, Ludwig immediately felt right at home in a different way to his own. Like an English cottage but larger and with certainly more floors. It excited him to think there was so much space, but not too much to be daunting. 

For now, he left his cases by the stairs, looking around to the open living room as he followed the pair into the kitchen. Here was larger than expected. It was completely open, spanning the width of the entire house, one side dedicated to the kitchen with a stylish island and stools, and the other a well used wood table with wooden benches either side. Large, and perfect for family gatherings. He could easily imagine the amount of people that it could fit, Arthur’s brothers, a few of his colonies, whoever wished to join. 

“Right. What should we have for dinner?” Arthur’s voice sounded at the kitchen island where Peter had also sat himself,   
“Fish and chips!”   
“You always want fish and chips.” He leaned on the counter as Ludwig came over to join them, “It _is_ just down the road, if you want some…”   
“I’ve… never had it actually.”   
The pair shared a look, Peter more obviously scandalised at the realisation.   
“Well.” Arthur nodded, “I guess that’s what we’re having.”   
The child bounced in his chair with excitement, cheering as he went. 

Of course the energy such a little thing would possess, Ludwig hadn’t been around children all that much in his life, no younger brothers to look after, no need to meet someone younger than him. Not that a younger country was easy to find, the closest he could think was America, now that he thought about it. 

“I’ll show you to your room first.” Arthur pushed off the counter, “Get you sorted, then I’ll head out and get some food.”   
“I want cod!”   
“I know, I know, Peter. Just wait a little while longer.” While the Englishman rolled his eyes, he looked to his friend with a smile, “It’s just upstairs. Peter, stay down here for a bit.”   
The boy pouted a little, but stayed firmly on his chair while Arthur led his German guest up the stairs. 

As they went, Ludwig couldn’t help but marvel. He was used to big houses for sure, but somehow it was on a whole new level. He was lead up to the next floor up, but looking through the staircase, he could see at least two more stories to this home, why all that space was needed when Arthur clearly lived alone was beyond him. It gave a similar feeling to the dining table, ready for any number of guests. 

His room, as he was told, was one of five with remaining two on the floor above and two more on this floor. The main bedroom was Arthur’s with it’s own bathroom, and the second bathroom was shared between the guest rooms.   
“You can use my bathroom if you want.” Arthur shrugged as he walked his guest to the end of the hall, “Peter’s in the other room on this floor, I’m guessing you don’t want to share with a kid.”   
“It’s fine.” He smiled politely, though he would likely accept the offer. 

The room was at the very end of the hall and stretched to the front of the house, large windows looking over the drive, and a wide closet space. The carpet was soft, similar to the rest of the décor of the room, painted in light blues and whites. However, as comfortable as it seemed, he looked up to the ceiling on some whim to be faced with a rather sizable mirror above the bed.  
“Oh.” Ludwig fought back something of a blush,   
“Uh.” His host cleared his throat, “If I said Francis stays in this room, would that explain it?”   
“…A little bit.” He fought to look away,   
“You can stay in another room upstairs if it bothers you.”   
“No no! It’s fine, it looks nice.” That was a bit of a lie. Truth be told, he just didn’t want to be a bother moving up the stairs again, and a floor to himself would be entirely awkward and disconnected. The glaring mirror would have to do. Though, he certainly hoped the sheets were clean. 

“Does Francis stay often?” He tried to lighten the mood, but the look on Arthur’s face made him splutter, “N-not like that!” the attempt at defending himself came out as a flustered mess. And yet, laughter from beside him managed to make him stop, ears still burning,   
“It’s fine, honestly.” Arthur grinned, “He doesn’t. Only when he needs to, and ya’know, hotels are expensive these days all that.”   
The German nodded, still flustered over jumping to such conclusions. God, he had to spend a month like this. 

“Well, anyway.” Arthur waved a hand, “You up for grub?”   
“Ah, of course.” A hesitant smile was given in response, he had to reel himself back in now, back to reality. 

They headed back down the stairs, the Englishman certainly more energetic as he barrelled down, swinging around the rail, “Two cod and chips, and something for the big German one.”   
At the sight of them, Peter leapt off his seat, heading straight towards his big brother’s arms where he was scooped up, just in time to be turned to look at their guest stepping down from the stairs. 

“I want to stay with him!” The child pointed, holding on with his other hand tight,   
“You sure? We could all go together.”   
“It’s cold out, you go get it.”   
Arthur rolled his eyes, “bloody demanding, aren’t you? Do you mind watching him?”   
“I’m sure it’s fine.” Ludwig replied with that same hesitant smile, he could handle a child, surely.   
“Alright then. What do you want?”   
“Whatever you suggest, I’ve never had it before…”   
“We can share some chips.” The Englishman bounced the child in his arms, “And you’re going to be good while I’m gone.”   
“I’m always good!”   
“You’re always a pain.” He set Peter back down and grabbed his keys, “I _promise_ I won’t be long.”   
“I can handle it.” Ludwig nodded. 

And soon, with some short goodbyes, it was just Ludwig and a loud, hungry child. 

With not much else to do in this vast house he had only just entered, Ludwig took to a place he could easily understand, where he had gone first. It was a comfort in that way. He was followed by Peter, close at his heels like a little duckling in his endearing sailor outfit and polished shoes, until they reached the island counter, where the young boy scrambled up onto a tall stool and sat, watching his babysitter look around for a glass.   
“Can I have some juice?”   
“I don’t know where that is.” Ludwig spoke a little quieter than he would have liked. Children weren’t his strong suit, and he didn’t quite know what this one was allowed to eat or drink.   
“It’s in the fridge.” Peter replied, as if that was the only thing cutting his supply off, “It’s on the top shelf.”   
“Top shelf, huh?” From his own experience, things on the top shelf where high for a reason, and while the boy wasn’t particularly small, he was still not tall enough to reach.   
“I’m thirsty…” he pouted,   
“Juice has a lot of sugar in it. Sugar is dehydrating, I can get you some water though.”   
“Water tastes like nothing.”   
Clearly this child hadn’t had a chilled glass of water at 3am, still too young to appreciate those pleasures. 

“Have you have tried sparkling water?” Ludwig stepped back over to the counter, two glasses of tap water in hand, setting one down in front of the child, and sitting on a stool close by,   
“Like fizzy water?” Peter scrunched up his nose, “Why would you make water fizzy?”   
“It tastes nice.”   
“You’re weird.”   
“Thank you… I think.” He shook his head lightly, going back to the tap water he had poured himself with an amused smile on his face. It wasn’t much conversation, but it was something at least. He could perhaps forgive the lost time he would face now without Arthur to himself, if he could make friends with his little brother, this might turn out more enjoyable than previously thought. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t to last long. Peter was persistent in his pursuit of knowledge of all things representative, asking pressing and oddly intimate questions as they sat, the German he aimed his curiosities at drawing lines in the droplets or water that had fallen from his glass.   
“What kind of healing rate do you have? Did it take you long to grow so big? I’ve been so little for a few decades now, but I think I’m still growing!” He blathered on, barely leaving spaces for answers, all of which were short, only taking a few words,   
“Could be faster. No it didn’t. I’m sure you are.” Ludwig spoke with his chin in his hand, trying his best to keep up.   
“I know Arthur’s is really slow because I kicked him in the shin when I got here and I can still see the bruise from the rips in his jeans.” The words came out a mile a minute, no thought or care behind them. The German man almost envied that; to speak what comes to your head so immediately, it must be a carefree life. 

All at once, time seemed to stop. One question that stopped him from his short answers, making his mouth gape to find the words.   
“Can you tell me about the war?” 

It had been so long since he’d really been asked about it, since he’d gone into any depth about such a thing. He felt his shoulders tighten at the stress, but he composed himself. It didn’t feel so long ago that he got through this, he had moved on, made a new identity. Albeit, the band he mostly based it on were slowly falling apart, but he still had Arthur’s music, and with that thought, he sighed, collecting himself back together. 

Peter was still talking when he interrupted, keeping his tone gentle, yet firm. A boundary he would need to set in place, “Peter, I would appreciate if in the future you don’t mention that to me. It’s a very sensitive topic, and quite rude.”   
As the child blinked, wrapping his head around the request, Ludwig expected the worst. Expected an explanation he would rather not have to go through, but this was a child he sat in front of, he didn’t know what to expect.  
“Okay.”   
“Thank you.”   
A brief pause floated through the air, it didn’t last long before Peter began his questions again, now sending them in new directions. He was smart, at least there was that. 

He was still talking when his big brother came through the front door, bringing with him a chill and a distinct smell of warm grease and salt from the plastic bag he held in one hand. Ludwig stood as he entered, Peter running towards the food, practically jumping with excitement. After greeting the child, Arthur looked up, exchanging a calm, comforting smile. And as it was returned, the world moved forward again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna say this is short but it's not THAT short. it's about 6 document pages long but also nothing much happens other than we get some peter and descriptions of Arthur's house. dw, next chapter is a little more content heavy. 
> 
> as I said, this doesn't have much of a plot other than gays find love ft. various 80s music references


	5. London Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A personal tour trip to central London leaves Ludwig almost clear on what he wants - not quite there yet, but he's onto something. And unbeknownst to him, so is Arthur. 
> 
> Of course Peter doesn't see shit he's too busy running around and being a trouble.

It took a good day or two for Ludwig to settle into this home and the patterns of Arthur and his rather unexpected little brother. The pair were always having some kind of back and forth conversation, Peter with his multitudes of questions, and Arthur always having some magical explanation. The German almost wanted to laugh at how quick he was to answer, at how trivial the questions became. This child was definitely curious – over curious. 

“How come-“  
“That’s enough now, Peter.” Arthur’s voice carried an exasperated undertone that suggested he had been answering these questions the entire morning. He shooed the boy up onto a stool and placed a mug of tea in front of him. It seemed to state the questions as his hands wrapped around it, blowing away the steam. 

“Right.” The Englishman sighed, leaning on the counter, “Breakfast?”  
“I want scones and cream and jam!” Before anyone could answer, Peter was already hopping in his seat,  
“Scones… and cream… and jam. Do you think I’m made of money?”  
He paused, then nodded, “Yes.”  
Arthur opened his mouth as if to answer, but the snort sounding beside him as Ludwig struggled to hold in his laugher caught him, he sighed with amusement.  
“Alright.” He tapped the counter, turning to the cupboards, “You can have one.”  
“I want two.”  
“You’ll make yourself sick.”  
“I want two!”  
“One.” The packet of store bought scones hit the table, “You can have another later if you’re good.” 

The scene of breakfast was enjoyable, Ludwig found himself often smiling at these interactions of a demanding child and his big brother. He himself had a short breakfast as they had planned a day out in London – mostly planned by Arthur, considering he was the most knowledgeable about the area. It was easier to hang back in these kinds of conversations, Ludwig wanted to see all he could before the month was up, soak in the rich history of the area. His guide knew just about everything; he could trust this vague plan of events. 

Scones and burnt toast finished, the three bundled up to face the early November chill, Ludwig with his scarf wrapped tight around his neck, thick enough to hide his face. His breath on it would make it damp, but at least add some heat over his jaw every time he exhaled. They were to walk to the train station and get the next train to central London, a promised 10 to 15-minute walk that threatened to get longer the more the wind blew at them. 

Arthur tried to hide his reaction to the cold, but his reddened knees through ripped jeans told enough of a story. Who on earth thinks it’s a good idea to wear such a thing in the coming of winter? With this in mind, the German fell into step with his guide for the day, both of them watching Peter skip on ahead a few paces in front – his blue wool coat swamping his little frame. 

Perhaps he should have planned words before he got there, but there wasn’t much that came to mind immediately. Thankfully he was noticed,  
“Bloody cold, ain’t it?” Arthur huffed, “Should get a little warmer during the day but Christ…”  
“And you still wore those jeans.”  
“They look _cool_ ”  
“They look cold.” Ludwig smiled under his scarf, earning a pointy shoulder in his arm,  
“You wish you had my style.”  
“I wish you had some.”  
The snort beside him felt like an accomplishment, it wasn’t often he joked about, but knowing one landed well always made his heart leap forward. 

“I’m sorry again.” The Englishman sighed, “I really didn’t know he was coming. He just kind of turned up.”  
“It’s okay.” Ludwig shrugged in reply, wishing he had more to say. Conversation was not something he was good at by any means, and all too often did that make itself clear in a sudden silence coupled with a needless burning at his ears. 

That silence travelled through until they got to the station. Arthur paid for their tickets, gently reminding his younger brother how to use it, letting him slot the ticket into the machine himself and go through the gates. The German watched and followed on, simply admiring the child’s excitement. He too was excited, perhaps not so much as to stand on the seats at the platform. 

“Peter, get down from there.” Arthur sighed, picking the boy up off the seats and setting him down, “People have to sit there and they don’t want to sit where your muddy shoes have been.”  
“They’re not muddy though.”  
“It’s just polite.” The way he said it seemed so genuine, a teacher of manners and courtesy, if he wasn’t dressed so rough he could be mistaken for upper class. 

On the train, Ludwig sat opposite his companion, feeling as though his legs were far too long to be accommodated without having to twist to one side. This was remedied with Arthur interlocking his own legs – while thinner, he wasn’t small. His legs had a similar problem, and the pair ended up seated with knees close yes comfortable. Arthur, with his hands in his pockets, simply smiled at the experience, somewhat apologetically.

Before he could start up a proper conversation between adults, Peter climbed over him to look out of the window as the train sped through various brush and foliage that climbed over the walls either side.  
“Sit down, will you?” Arthur huffed, picking the boy up by his waist and sitting him properly down on his lap, “There, now you can see.” He kept an arm around the child, supporting him as he pressed his face up against the window, watching with deep interest. 

When the Englishman looked over and noticed his friend smiling, he returned it, “What you looking at?”  
“Nothing.” Ludwig shook his head, having not realised his endeared stare, “Just excited.”  
“Sure thing.” Unconvinced, he sat back, arms still holding his little brother should he decide to move anywhere else. “We’re going to the tower first, right?”  
“Yes. I’d quite like to see that.”  
“We can always make a day of just that, depends on if you want to see other things today.” 

Ludwig thought for a moment, he didn’t know the area too well since he’d never been. He’d be here long enough, “We could just do that today.” He nodded, “And go for something to eat while we’re out.”  
“A lot of bits are clumped together, Tower of London is between Tower Bridge and London Bridge but there’s not much else of note around there. There’s the HMS Belfast but she’s across the river.” While holding Peter, he did his best to gesture vaguely as if there were a map in front of him, his guest might think he had one memorised by heart by now.  
“I want to see the ship! And the Cutty Sark!”  
“That’s in Greenwich, Peter. It’s a bit too far for today.”  
He pouted, but didn’t press further, deciding to turn his attention instead back to the window.  
“Would you want to see the HMS Belfast?” Arthur directed his question back to the German in front of him, “It’s a war ship.”  
“I wouldn’t want to ruin Peter’s fun…” Ludwig smiled, it was an uneasy one. Surely a ship he could take, it had been so long after all.  
“Well, we’ll go, but if you’re uncomfortable we can leave.”  
“Thank you.” 

Sometimes, Ludwig felt weak for these little things he held. Annoying reminders, despite years passing and a new age coming through, the children of those soldiers rising up against the mistakes of their elders. A battle ship used in war, really it was nothing in comparison the the other things that war brought with it – and now with plenty of time, his goal was to face it head on. If he couldn’t do that, what kind of nation would he be? Somehow, to think that Arthur saw him as needing support in such a place, he couldn’t decide where he stood. 

On the one hand he was glad, someone older, much more mature had his back should he fall. He was safe in the hands of someone with experience. However, the other hand bothered him, that hand of self doubt that made him think he was being pitied, or that he seemed weak for not being over it already. Keep calm and carry on. That was Arthur’s motto. So why couldn’t he be like him? 

Those thoughts he had came to a halt when he noticed the pair in front of him move. Peter bounced up and down, his older brother holding him and pointing out of the window.  
“It’ll come up soon.” Arthur spoke with a smile, “Keep your eyes open, okay?”  
By instinct, Ludwig turned to look as well. 

Peaking through the buildings either side as they passed, Tower Bridge stood tall and grand. His eyes widened as he moved closer to the window. Something about it felt complete, like he was finally experiencing the city, and there was so much more to see. Once it was out of view, he glanced over to his friend, who he found was looking back at him with a soft smile.  
“London has its own magic, doesn’t it?” Arthur spoke quietly. It was as if it was just them on this train, just for those few moments until they stopped. 

“This is our stop. We can walk across London Bridge; you’ll see it all from there.” 

And it was true. Once they reached it, they stood in the centre to one side, Peter held up to look over the barriers. The Thames moved under them, despite the cold, the sun glittered over the waves shining dancing lights onto the walls either side. Boats sailed past, tour boats and private boats, few and far between. And beyond that, stretching in front of them, past the HMS Belfast’s battleship grey, the bright and extravagant Tower Bridge in it’s glory. 

“It was built somewhere between 1886 and 1894. Only opens for registered vessels with a mast height of anywhere over 30 feet.” Arthur spoke, though the child between them seemed more interested in the boats and water, Ludwig could feel this knowledge directed at him.  
“It’s very Beautiful.” He swallowed, eyes scanning the skyline.  
“Over there is where we’re going.” The Englishman pointed, keeping his finger low for Peter to follow, “Just before the bridge, that’s the tower. You can see traitor’s gate if you try hard enough.”  
“I want to see!” Peter hopped, pulling himself onto the ledge, but his big brother was quick, grabbing him before he got too far, “You can see it closer when we get there.” 

The walk was short and peaceful, though Ludwig found the young companion they had brought with them soon taking hold of both his and Arthur’s hands, pulling himself back and jumping forward. The German’s immediate reaction was to hold on tighter, making sure the child didn’t fall, but instead, Peter giggled and tried to swing himself again. Arthur shared a look with his companion and smiled apologetically, but something in it suggested he didn’t mind it all that much. 

The next time Peter pulled back, the pair nodded to each other, and as he went into his swing, pulled him up higher. The look of pure joy on the child’s face could melt any heart, and Ludwig felt himself smiling as Peter giggled and hopped about, asking for one more big swing.  
“Again! Again!” He jumped,  
“One more time, okay?” Arthur replied, “Then we have to go get our tickets.”  
Peter was already pulling himself back as far as he was allowed before running forward again. This time, the lift was much higher, and he squealed in delight. 

“Okay, you two wait here at the entrance.” Arthur spoke, letting go of the hand he held, “You stick with Ludwig, don’t give him any trouble.” With that said, he ruffled his little brother’s hair and hurried off before his guest could mention anything about paying for his own entry. 

So he was left. Standing holding the hand of a now very excited little child. Not that it was so bad, but children weren’t his strong suit, despite how much he had already let past him. He stood quite awkwardly, hand tight so as not to let the little thing wonder off somewhere. Or was it so he himself wouldn’t get lost? The line seemed to blur and right now, he might as well be the child in a strange country standing practically on his own. 

The tug on his arm brought him back from his bout of nerves. He looked down to see wide innocent blue eyes staring at him.  
“I need to pee.”  
He closed his eyes, sighing. Of course. This was no different than taking care of Feli sometimes. 

“Can you hold it until Arthur gets back?” He asked, already feeling exhausted,  
“Don’t know.” Peter replied as he hopped back and forth on both feet,  
“Right.” 

Panic. 

Ludwig looked around, trying to see at first if there were any signs pointing to a public restroom he might find somewhere that wasn’t too far away that would allow them to be back soon. But the lack of signs made the panic only worse, as did Peter’s clear need to go as soon as. 

The Thames was looking like a very tempting option right now. Instead, Ludwig set his eyes on someone in uniform, greeting tourists and pointing them in the direction of the tower’s entrance.  
“Lets go and ask.” He almost ordered, though tried to keep his tone as non threatening as possible. Peter nodded quickly, his face scrunched up with discomfort. Perhaps the tone of his voice wasn’t the most important thing at this moment in time. 

As they reached the staff member, she smiled brightly and greeted them with such a chipper voice, Ludwig took an entire step back from her. This welcoming attitude was enough to throw him completely off, and his confused face must have shown more than he’d thought as her brown creased slightly. Peter tugged on his sleeve, bringing him back to the matter at hand – the far more important matter.  
“A-ah.” He took a moment to breathe, for a that moment, English wasn’t registering as an option. Luckily, the woman seemed both patient and observant of the child clinging to him,  
“Toilets?” She suggested, still a smile on her face, though more gentle and concerned.  
“Yes. Please.”  
“There are some just by the ticket offices.” She spoke clearly, pointing in the right direction, “You’ll see the sign as you get closer.”  
He nodded quickly, hurrying Peter along, “Th-thank you.” 

Upon leaving, he felt his face burning with embarrassment. That must surely happen a lot to her, but the fact he did it anyway didn’t make the situation any better. But, they found the toilets with no problem, and Ludwig waited by the door, keeping an eye on his watch. By now, Arthur must be looking for them. The lines had been long, but this whole episode had taken longer than it should have. 

The toilet flushed and Peter hopped out, heading straight to the sink that he could just about reach on his tiptoes. Ludwig turned the tap on for him though. He had calmed since all of that, feeling as though that was enough excitement for one day, to think he now had to walk around for hours. 

The pair headed back, hand in hand once more, but far less desperate and confused.  
“Ludwig?” Peter spoke, tugging the sleeve again. What could he possibly need now?  
“What is it?”  
“Thank you for trying. I don’t like talking to strangers either.”  
Ludwig sighed, letting a small smile fall onto his face, “It’s alright. But next time you should say earlier.”  
“Okay.” 

In the spot they had left stood Arthur, looking around with a confused and slightly concerned look on his face before his eyes found the pair walking towards him. He jogged up to meet them, tickets in hand and relief wiping his expression.  
“Thought I told you two to stay put.” He laughed, though it seemed to just be from the drop of panic,  
“We had to find the toilets.” The German replied, leading his little partner forward so he could join hands with his big brother,  
“I see. You should have told me, Peter. I was going that way!”  
“I thought I could hold it!” The child pouted, changing his tone to be more defiant now that it wasn’t just Ludwig with him.  
“Anyway.” Arthur grinned, holding up the tickets, “Who’s for a personal tour, huh? I remember when a trip here cost nothing but sixpence! Or something like that.”  
“Didn’t your currency only change recently?”  
“10 years. I still get confused.” 

For this oddly sunny yet cold day, the tower was as empty as you might expect a major landmark and tourist destination to be. That is, the odd smattering of a group of people, but quieter than it would be during summer. For one, you could actually walk around and the line for the jewel house didn’t stretch passed the white tower. 

Ludwig found himself constantly looking up, admiring the architecture and how this place seemed to have just been completely frozen in time. Almost untouched by the modern age, it was really like stepping into the past. 

“Lucky you.” Arthur nudged him with his shoulder as Peter ran ahead to lean over a rail, “You’ve got your own personal tour guide. Ask me any question you like, and I might be able to answer it.”  
“Might?” The German raised an eyebrow,  
“Memory’s a bit fuzzy. Can’t expect me to remember _everything_.”  
“I suppose.” His eyes wandered over the brickwork as they walked, catching up to where Peter had set himself, looking over some water and towards traitor’s gate. But, as interesting as it was, Ludwig turned to see something else behind him. A sculpture made of chicken wire, incredibly detailed in the shape of a polar bear. 

“What is that for?”  
Arthur turned from his spot supporting the child, “Oh. They used to keep animals here. Sometimes people gift the royalty pets, and back in the day it was fashionable to get something weird. I forget who it was that gave us the polar bear.”  
“Surely that’s not… kind to it?”  
“Not at all. This place used to be a zoo almost. The bear was put on a rope and allowed to fish in the Thames, lions and tigers fought each other… I think there were monkeys too… never liked monkeys.”  
Ludwig hummed, perhaps in some sort of agreement, “Well I’m glad you don’t keep any anymore.”  
“Other than the ravens.” 

The ravens, Ludwig thought as he found himself stood in front of a row of very large cages. The back doors of them were open to give the large corvids free roam of the grounds of the tower. None of this was cruel, not like the story of the polar bear or the lions and tigers, the birds weren’t there for display.  
“If the ravens ever leave the tower,” Arthur spoke beside him, “England will fall.”  
“Do you believe that?”  
“That my existence depends on a few birds buggering off somewhere?” He scoffed, but a pause let the real answer be known. A hint of fear that perhaps, that is all that tied him together. “It’s just superstition.”  
“Superstition… I see.”  
“Yeah. Legally there have to be about 6 of them kept here at one time… that’s why we have 7. Just in case.” 

The day moved very quickly, the tower had plenty to explore and there wasn’t much that was left unnoticed. Arthur walked them through everything, giving what knowledge he had and a few funny little stories – some that had to be hushed when Peter was busy starting wide eyed at a set of armour. It had been a satisfying time, and Ludwig was sure to take as many pictures as he could on a disposable camera he bought. He had used up all of the film by the time they left, and he was just putting it away as Peter ripped his hand from Arthur’s to run up against another railing. Following his excitement, it was easy to see why. 

Tower Bridge was large and exciting in itself. A stark contrast of decorative architecture compared to the modern buildings – something he had found London did so well as the two complimented each other. However, a crowd seemed to gather as the bridge slowly lifted, allowing some taller boats to pass through. Ludwig found himself pressed against the rail next to the child, his own eyes wide. His host nudged him, a proud smile on his face as he too watched,  
“That’s good luck.” He spoke, “To see the bridge open.” 

They watched the bridge until it had closed again, and moved on across the river, Peter practically dragging them in the direction of the large, grey ship that sat just opposite of the tower. From entering to following the child as he excitedly pointed and ran through every inch of the massive war ship, Ludwig found his head to be full of cotton. It was a smothering atmosphere in here, so part way through, he excused himself to get some air. He didn’t leave the ship entirely, instead standing on the bow and looking over the river. The day had been so good so far, but something created for war seemed far too fitting to be placed opposite to such a great structure of power. Built to incite fear. 

He lost track of how long he had been out there, staring miles and miles up the river, entranced in the sunlight on the waves as the strong wind dislodged some of his pushed back hair, leaving it to whip around his face. What a mess, he thought. 

A clearing of a throat near him pulled him out from his trance, eyes moving just beside him to see Arthur standing by. He looked a little awkward, like he felt he had interrupted something important. He shifted on his pointed white boots, hands in his pockets as his voice picked up past the wind, “You alright out here?” he asked,  
“Ja. I’m fine. Sorry, I was in a world of my own.”  
“It’s alright. You’ve been out here a while is all.”  
“Have I?” Ludwig’s brow twitched into a slight frown, not quite having the motivation to make it a stronger expression,  
“Yeah. I mean it’s fine, just thought I’d check on you.” The Englishman shifted again, seeming to look away to the river for a moment, or maybe it was the guns the ship held on it’s bow, “It’s getting pretty late in the day, was thinking we could head out, get something to eat and sit in a park or something before we get home.”  
“I could eat.” He wasn’t hungry, but it felt like the polite thing to say,  
“Cool. I’ll uh. I’ll go get Peter before he somehow turns the engine on.” Arthur joked, that lopsided grin like a warm blanket over the soul. Uneasy and unsure, but somehow solid enough to be believable. Ludwig smiled back,  
“Alright. I’ll meet you at the entrance.”  
“Gotcha.” 

Arthur took one step back and turned on his heel, but he stopped before he went. It was unusual to see any real hesitance in him, something less weighing up his options, more convincing himself to do something, to choose his words carefully. He looked back, bottom lip captive under his teeth before he took a breath, “I… I get it.” He managed, almost wincing at his own words, “We all do, ya’know?”  
Ludwig didn’t say anything in response, his lips parted as if a response hung just at the back of his throat, not quite able to push past his tongue.  
“I just want you to know that we all go through it… we don’t forget it. Even I…” Arthur stopped, swallowing, “Anyway.” He looked at his feet, “You’re not alone, is what I mean. So If you need to talk, I’ll listen.” 

“Th…thank you.” Ludwig nodded, feeling his chest tighten, something squeezing his heart, “I appreciate it.”  
With that, Arthur returned the nod, and turned back to search for his little brother. The German watched him go, feeling somehow both lost and found. 

 

Leaving that ship didn’t seem to settle the unease in him as much as he would have liked. It remained in the back of his head as they walked, finding a small café to sit in. As usual, Arthur was the one to get their order. Black coffee for Ludwig, earl grey for Arthur, and a hot chocolate for Peter. It felt good to finally sit down, and in the quiet bustle of the café, the German felt himself just about ready to drift off. The coffee would help him, he thought, that would wake him up. But, it still proved difficult not to stare mindlessly out of the window from their little booth seats. 

He was pulled away briefly as coffee was placed in front of him,  
“You tired?” Arthur spoke, seemingly the only voice to permeate through the stuffing in his head,  
“Yes. I must be… It’s been a long day.”  
“I think this is the first time we’ve really sat down.” The Englishman spoke into his tea, sipping it with a grateful sigh. 

Even Peter seemed placated for now – less energetic than he had been in the morning as he stifled a yawn.  
“I think we could all do with the rest.” Arthur smiled, “Get home, some proper grub.”  
“Depends on what…” This was his half way of saying he wasn’t hungry, but he was too polite to admit it.  
“We’ll peruse some options.” The Englishman nodded. And the trio fell very quiet as they all drunk their drinks, enjoying the peace – and the seats. 

Once they left, Ludwig shoved his hands into his pockets. Without the warmth of the coffee on them, they were far too cold to stay on the outside. They walked towards the train station, a different one to what they had came on, but it was promised it would take them the same way. Honestly, the German was just excited to get back to a bed – even if it had a glaring mirror above him. 

Though, as Arthur and Peter seemed to walk ahead a bit, he found those hands feeling so empty, like they needed something to hold. Not just anything apparently; he held his train ticket, a few spare coins, but really, he knew what he wanted. He looked in front of him, the other hand – Arthur’s hand, just out of reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me fucking long enough. I lost my will to write for a while. got busy with other things. But I love these two in the 80s and no one can stop me. I hope the next chapter doesn't take like. 4 months. 
> 
> also. trying to write mid autumn London when it's 32˚C here is bullshit. Hope you enjoy my London facts anyway, I don't get to see it much but the Tower of London is my favourite place in the whole world. I just didn't want to weigh y'all down with all my facts tbh. 
> 
> also I don't proof read because this is purely recreational. feel free to point out my mistakes.


	6. She's Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another fun day out in London, you'd think they'd have seen it all by now. But there's still music to listen to, and a few memories to recount. 
> 
> this chapter it literally the reason I started this fic.

The night was late, in between the two men on the sofa, Peter sat, his eyes struggling to stay open. He leaned against the more comfortable of the other two – Ludwig, letting his eyes give in for a few seconds. 

“He’s knackered.” Arthur spoke in a quiet tone, looking over to his little brother,  
“It has been a long day.” The German replied, shifting his arm so the child against him could sit comfortably, “I can’t blame him.”   
“Come on then…” 

The pair got up carefully, Ludwig lifting the child into his arms to carry him upstairs. Peter wrapped his arms around the German’s neck, cuddling into his shoulder with a tired protest muttered. But, by the time they got to the child’s room, he was already asleep, and was lowered into his bed with ease. 

“I think I’ll head to bed as well.” Ludwig said in a hushed whisper as they softly closed the door,   
“Alright. I’m gonna be downstairs for a little longer. You sleep well though.” 

They said their goodnights and parted ways, if not slightly awkwardly with worn out smiles. Arthur sat back on the sofa, limbs heavy and body glad to be rested again. He was tired, definitely tired, but a reluctance to go to sleep still tugged at him. He couldn’t put his finger on that feeling, maybe he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, and the best way to combat that was to go back to the book he had been reading. 

It didn’t last long as the sound of the phone cut through the quiet night air, and the Englishman struggled to get to it to shut it up. He tutted, putting it to his ear,   
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”   
“Hello to you too, Arthur.” Of course the French accent chuckled over the phone, who else called him this late at night? 

“What do you want, Francis?”   
“I can’t just call an old friend when I’m feeling a little lonely?”   
“You sound like a call girl.”   
“We’ll save that bit for later. Anyway, I do have a reason for calling you, if you’d like to hear it?”   
Arthur paused for a minute, a reason was it? He sighed, placing his book face down, “I’m listening.”   
“Good.” The voice lit up, but clearly held itself down from it’s excitement, “I’ve been hearing a few rumours on the grape vine, about you mostly, and someone who’s quite interested in you.”  
“Right… who?” His eyes narrowed, picking his words carefully as few as they were. 

Truth be told, it had seemed a little obvious how much time he was spending with _someone else_ , but surely it hadn’t been so obvious for Francis to catch wind. Even though they talked often enough, Arthur hadn’t mentioned any of it. He was still unsure of it all himself. Even after today, even after he had stared for so long when the wind had blown his hair out of place… 

“I’m not telling.” Francis’ voice sang out in a tease, “But I know someone is quite interested in you. Surprised me, really.”   
“Why would anyone be interested in me?”  
“That’s what I thought.”  
“You’re not meant to agree, you bastard.”   
The Frenchman laughed, that delicate, yet present laugh Arthur had heard all his life. But he rolled his eyes at it pushing back into his seat, “Someone is interested in me then… it’s not you, is it?”   
“Not this time. Are you interested in pursing...?”   
“Well, I…” he felt the blush burning at his ears. It seemed unthinkable, that even as he looked so admiringly, as he shared what made him happy, that anyone could feel that same way.   
“Oh?” Francis spoke with a smile in his voice, and even without seeing him, he knew he was leaning forward in his chair with interest glittering in his eyes, “You have someone in mind, don’t you?”   
“Shut up…”   
“Don’t try to hide it from me, I’ve known you far too long for that. I won’t say who my end is, and I won’t pressure you to tell me who you like… I’ve just been hearing little things here and there, someone asking about you.”   
“Asking…? About what?”   
“Little things, how they can impress you. I don’t want to say too much.”   
“I think you’ve already said more than they’d have wanted.” Arthur grumbled, feeling an awful lot like a public school boy with a crush on the nurse. “But yeah… I guess you could say I’m pursuing.. _someone_ ” 

\--- 

Morning. The time Ludwig had spent in this home made it start to feel comfortable. They had all spent more days wandering London, eating practically nothing but takeaway, and listening to music. Peter would join in, finding great love in a song that was named after him, standing on Arthur’s feet to dance with it.

But today, they had all woken up fairly early to catch a train to Victoria, here is where the passport office was. The Englishman had said Ludwig didn’t have to join, but after some insistence, they settled on the idea of having a picnic afterwards in a park somewhere. That and he would be thrown back into awkwardness having this whole house to himself. 

Not many words were said on the way there, even Peter had calmed, resting on Ludwig throughout the whole train journey. There was a comment about him making a great pillow, and they laughed. 

Early mornings always felt like a blur, and it seemed in no time, they were at the passport office, handing in all of peter’s paperwork and the like, getting a very tired photo taken. The whole time, Ludwig sat back, happily holding coats and the bag of food he had brought in preparation. 

By the time they got out, Peter was much more full of energy. He ran about as usual, causing trouble and getting under people’s feet, leaving Arthur to constantly be apologising. They reached St James’ park and walked along to find a nice spot, the child obviously running ahead to chase a collection of pigeons. But before he could reach his next target, a singular magpie among the new growing group of birds, he tripped, falling hard into the gravel path. 

“Bugger.” Arthur cursed, breaking into a run to catch up to the child, now crying and scraped. Carefully, as he cooed, he set the boy onto a nearby bench to check him over. By the time Ludwig had caught up, most of the tears had been wiped away but he was still quite the mess. His palms and chin were scraped, and blood dripped in an almost endless stream from his lip. 

“Here.” Ludwig reached into his pocket, pulling out a clean pack of tissues and started handing them to the Englishman, who had crouched in front of his little brother hushing him as he whined. It took some time and gentle cleaning to inspect the damage properly, leaving few wounds that looked as though they were starting to heal already. 

“There. Just a few little cuts and a busted lip. You’ll survive.” Arthur patted the boy’s cheek, that comforting, lopsided smile on as always. So much care behind it, it was enough to melt the hardest of soldiers – Something Ludwig could attest to. 

Despite the smile, Peter didn’t seem quite convinced that he was okay, still sniffling away and shaking his head.  
“Tell you what.” His big brother took his hands, giving them a little squeeze, “How about some ice cream to make that lip feel better, huh? Would you like that?”   
The boy’s eyes lit up, and in an instant, he was no longer on the verge of more tears. He nodded enthusiastically, kicking his legs.   
“Alright, alright. Come on then.” Arthur stood, “Up we come, lets go get some ice cream.” 

For mid autumn, it wasn’t all that hard to find some ice cream. They made do with what they could find, and soon enough, Peter was sucking away on a strawberry flavoured lolly, and the older pair also decided that despite the cold, they would join in with their own, different flavours. Ludwig had picked out orange – by far the most superior flavour – and Arthur had chosen lemon. Why was anyone’s guess. He mentioned something about not having much of a sweet tooth. 

They headed back to the park with their frozen treats in hand and soon set themselves on the grass under a particularly shady tree. A blanket laid down under them and some other snacks and sandwiches handed out. It was overall, a calming morning, everything had settled. And while Peter’s hands were still sore, he seemed much happier with food in them. 

How long they all sat there was a mystery, however long it was, it was enough time for Arthur to have laid down to take a nap, hands tucked under his head as he lay between his guest and little brother. The little boy next to him, however, seemed entirely restless, riding on the sugar high of the ice lolly he’d had earlier. 

Not wanting to be a disturbance, Ludwig didn’t say anything, instead looking around for some twigs on the ground, and gently placing one on the Englishman’s chest, glancing over to Peter with what could be a playful smile. The young micronation’s eyes lit up and immediately he went to finding his own twig to place on Arthur’s sleeping chest. 

He was completely out of it, considering the amount of twigs the pair had gathered and balanced on him, they held in laughter at their growing tower atop an unsuspecting Englishman. It was nice, Ludwig thought, to spend a little time with Peter – he had never considered having a little brother before, but this was turning out to be quite fun. 

Their fun was interrupted however, when a bird decided it wanted to swoop in to join Arthur. It landed roughly, jolting the man awake and toppling the tower they had made. Both burst out laughing, even Ludwig couldn’t hold it anymore despite covering his mouth. He hadn’t laughed that hard in a while, it was certainly a cathartic feeling.   
“What the hell are you two laughing about?” Arthur spoke, brushing the twigs off of him before shoving his German friend to the side, “Oi! The hell were you doing?” As harsh as his words were, his own amusement was clear, finding the giggling pair contagious. 

“That’s it.” He said, starting to stand up, “I’ll get you for that.”   
Ludwig snorted, quickly pushing himself up as well, ducking away from the advancing grabs and heading off in a sprint. The other followed, calling after him with joking threats, and from somewhere, he could hear Peter cheering him on. He dodged people and jumped over obstacles, occasionally looking behind to see Arthur not quite catching up. 

The last time he looked around, he couldn’t see the Englishman – but he could hear him. Thundering footsteps matching his own in pace, coming closer and closer. A shortcut, he thought, looking to his side just in time to be tackled to the ground by him. As stringy as Arthur looked, the momentum he put behind it was precise, and knocked his German friend to the ground hard in a tangle of limbs. 

“Got you!” Arthur grinned, out of breath but triumphant, hanging over the other man with his legs either side. It took a few seconds of them laying there on the ground, one under the other, to quite process the position that they were in. Ludwig felt his face flush, not daring to say anything for fear the words that would come out would be a mess of all the languages he knew. Perhaps he noticed as well, the redness pouring over Arthur’s face too, though he might have passed it off as the very sudden workout they had taken part in, and maybe he blamed his own redness on that too. His heart was beating fast from running so suddenly, certainly not the man above him, staring into his green eyes now so close. Closer than he was before. Was he leaning down? 

That train of thought was interrupted quickly, a small child in the shape of Peter crashed into the Englishman, making him fall on his back. And the moment was gone, as if nothing had happened. Nothing _had_ happened, Ludwig reminded himself as he sat up. They had had a run, and no amount of admirable stares as Arthur laughed at his little brother’s playful attitude would change that. 

They had gone home later that day, finding themselves wrapped up in the London atmosphere and getting home as it began to get dark – which for the autumn months, was fairly early, more so than usual. Peter seemed to work very much like clockwork, as soon as the sun was down, he was ready for bed – though denied it, obviously. This time, he was read a story before he slept, but in the time Arthur took to read, Ludwig took advantage of the empty bathroom and took a shower. 

This was Arthur’s bathroom, not the guest one he had showered in before. Something about this room was very different – very Arthur. I was of course, larger, a little more extravagant. For someone who dressed like they had family in the mines, his bathroom certainly showed his more traditional, royalist side. The German didn’t remember all too much of the bathrooms at the Windsor estate, but he felt as though they were similar, with the modern addition of the shower. 

The room was a greenish blue, small tiles on the floors and painted walls, white porcelain sink and bath, decorated simply and yet with an air of extravagance. The smell was down to the soap, and that was just as earthy as Arthur himself; a strange mix of cloves and rose that stuck in the nose and quickly became the norm. He liked it in this bathroom, the towels with their mossy greenish colour made him think of the Englishman he was sharing this house with – and for some reason, his heart jumped when he thought about it. 

Falling hard and fast was not something Ludwig would consider himself doing, it wasn’t his style. What _was_ his style was something he always pondered, but looking in the space he’d wiped clean of condensation from the mirror, he could see it in his eyes, and he wanted to groan at the thought of it. Infatuation – a crush. Feli had been right before; the more he thought about it the more he couldn’t stop himself from admitting it. The real question he couldn’t get off his mind however; what was he going to do about it? 

By the time he had finished his extended emotional crisis, Arthur was somewhere downstairs, having his brother be put happily to sleep. At first, the German couldn’t find his friend, searching around downstairs. They had mentioned meeting back up on the sofa for some wine and to listen to some music as quietly as it would go, but soon he heard it, softly floating through the air, and followed. He had keen ears after all this time, and tracked the music down a little set of stairs just to one side of the kitchen. A wine cellar, of course. 

He stepped down into the dark, holding a rail to keep himself steady until the light trickled in from somewhere in this room. The song playing was the first on this album they had been listening to; _The New Stone Age._ It was rough, but easy to move with, one of his personal favourites. 

Bottles and bottles lined the walls of the dimly lit cellar, the further back he went, the more dust that had collected on the bottles. Some of these must be hundreds of years old he thought, if some were older than him, he would be very impressed, if not a little weirded out. But at the back of this room, an opening made itself clear with the source of light spilling out onto the floor. 

He turned to be faced with an entire second room, still stone walled and hard floored, but here there were two sofas, a billiards table, and a fully stocked bar. It was a cave, and in it, Arthur hummed to himself, pouring two drinks out. When he saw the other man, he smiled brightly,   
“What do you think?”   
“I think.. it’s a little excessive.” Ludwig raised an eyebrow, walking over to lean over the bar and accept the drink that was pushed towards him,   
“Well I like it.” The Englishman shrugged, taking a sip of his own, “Besides, it’s quieter down here. My own little world.”   
“Complete with actual bar. How very you.”   
“Oit.” He snorted. “I’m not that bad.”   
“I have no doubts you can drink plenty. It’s just how well you can hold it I worry about.” 

Arthur scoffed, walking around the bar as the song changed. He set his drink down as he passed, an arm running along to catch ludwig’s own in it’s grip.   
“C’mon.” He spoke, voice far softer than before, “Dance with me.” 

He was in no position to refuse, though the song that played wasn’t something he imagined they would both dance to. _She’s Leaving_ was a very soft sounding song, it’s gentle melody floated over them as Arthur took his hands, stepping gently in time with the music with a sway. Something about this song was very sad to him, but Ludwig could barely focus on the lyrics as a head rested on his chest. Should his heart beat any harder, it might explode – or worse, Arthur might feel it beating. 

The repeating melody echoed around him, surrounding the pair of them, and he felt himself look away. The Englishman must already be tipsy for this to be happening, why else would he be leaning so heavily forward? 

“Ludwig.” A voice broke through the music. 

_She washed her hands of this whole affair._

He felt his ears burn, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.  
“Ludwig, look at me…” 

_She’s leaving. She waited for so long._

He turned his head, managing to look down as the hands moved from his own, one taking his cheek. And soon his eyes were closed, lips parted, accepting of another pair to take them. 

\--- 

Ludwig’s eyes fluttered open, the taste of traces bile hanging on the end of his tongue. As sharp and horrible as the taste was, he held the drunk man who gave it to him in his hands, a tight grip on his shoulders. 

Fireworks burst in the air outside. Hundreds of people celebrating the new year with not a clue. Midnight. 

“Just like old times…” Arthur muttered, his head buried in the German’s chest, barely audible over the noise outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet y'all forgot this fic is 99% flashback. 
> 
> basically we're out of the 80s now for a bit. only a bit. 
> 
> got this out quick, didn't I? well I've been pretty into it again lately. And I'm excited to share it all with you guys completed. I'd say about 6 chapters left to go maybe. i'll leave it open cus i'm just guessing.


	7. Computer Liebe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After that kiss, Ludwig has some thoughts on what he should do next. 
> 
> -
> 
> Back in the 80s, Peter has come down with something, leaving the pair to think maybe it's time he heads home - other than they would really like some alone time together.

New years morning was oddly easy to wake up to; Ludwig hadn’t done much drinking, so he got up at his usual time, went for a run, had a shower, and now sat on his sofa with some coffee, reading a paper. It felt just like any normal morning, full of normal things and every day happenings. Quiet and settled. 

The only difference to it being any other morning was that he had a guest, and that guest decided to drag himself down the stairs just as Ludwig finished his coffee and flop rather ungraciously onto the sofa next to him, hauled up in a blanket. Arthur curled up, resting his cloth covered head onto the German’s shoulder with a grunt of discomfort. 

A few seconds passed before he croaked out some words,  
“Last night…” he began groggily, “How did I get here?”  
“I drove you.” Ludwig answered, amused with a slight bitter taste of disappointment as he put his cup onto the side. While he moved, a head made its way under his arm, and the Englishman seemed only to huddle up closer,  
“I remember a little.” He huffed. A pause stopped him, rigging out between them for a little while before he started again, “I kissed you.”  
“You did.”  
“After I threw up.”  
“Yes.”  
From under the blanket, Arthur peered out, nose scrunched up, “Sorry.”  
The German chuckled in return, rubbing his shoulder, “It’s okay.”

“I haven’t kissed you in a while.” Arthur continued, once again resting his head on his shoulder, “I forgot how nice it is…”  
The man holding him was about to reply, to say that he honestly wouldn’t mind it happening more, when he was sober, in the evenings, in the mornings, who knew it would take just one simple kiss to a song to throw him back into that age old crush he had. 

But he couldn’t say it – not because he wasn’t confident enough to, but because someone knocked obnoxiously at his door. 

Ludwig got up, carefully moving around the man who had been leaning on him, who, without his support, decided to sink down and lay on the sofa, head once again covered with the blanket over him. 

At the door was a more than chipper American who straightened up from leaning on the doorframe, bright smile on his face. “Hey!” Alfred gave a short wave, one hand shoved into his pocket, “How’s it goin’?”  
“Good.” Ludwig nodded in return. He already knew why he was being visited.  
“I came to check up on the old man. Say goodbye before I fly off.”  
“You’re leaving today?” He frowned, “You didn’t stay very long.”  
“Nah, I just came for the party. I got a lot of work to do back home if you get me… That lump on the sofa him?” 

Alfred would never rudely invite himself in, he waited for the German to step to the side and allow him through the door before heading in, hopping up to said lump on the sofa to crouch at it’s head.  
“Hey, Artie!”  
A long suffering groan in return,  
“That bad, huh? Well at least we know how to get you to stop talking.”  
A pair of legs kicked out of the blanket, almost violently aiming at the nation in front of them. Despite the ferocity of these kicks, Alfred only stumbled slightly with a laugh, catching himself with one hand and shielding with the other, even making a grab for the other’s ankles. “Okay I get it! I’ll leave you alone.” He stood, still grinning, “I’ll see you some other time, old man.” His goodbyes were met with one last kick to the knee before he moved back to the door.  
“Thanks, Lud.” While he smiled, he hushed his voice, “For uh.. taking care of him. When he’s like this.”  
“It’s no problem.” It really wasn’t. Ludwig would be happy to care for him for as long as they both lived, though maybe that was a little extreme. 

Alfred left as quickly as he came, behind him, Ludwig closed the door and sighed, moving back to his place on the sofa, now taken up by a grumbling head.  
“Can I sit back down?”  
“Pay the toll.” Arthur spoke, barely a mutter under the blankets,  
“Toll?” The German could feel a smile pulling at his lips, “What’s the toll, then?”  
His guest pulled the blanket back, revealing just his overtired eyes, “One kiss.” 

Of course, he thought. But instead, he moved, taking Arthur’s shoulders in his hands and pulling him up so he could sit back in his space, much to the Englishman’s protests. As soon as he was parked, the worm under those blankets wriggled his way up, plopping himself neatly on his lap. Soon, the blanket was pulled up and over Ludwig’s own head, and he was finally met with the full sight of one very hungover Brit. 

He felt heat in his face, but he still smiled. “That toll then…” he started, finding his hands fit nicely around Arthur’s waist. 

No time was wasted as Arthur smirked with an air of confidence unheard of in a man who was barely keeping himself sat up. Carefully, he took the German’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling him up to meet his lips for the second time in the past day. This time was far more pleasant – it tasted like Arthur at least had the courtesy to use some mouthwash to rid himself of last night’s mistakes, and it was definitely enjoyable, even if Ludwig had no clue what to do with his hands but loosely keep them around the other’s waist. For a little while, it was just them under that blanket, the light peeking through the knit like starts in the sky. 

\--- 

London, England. 1981

If Ludwig hadn’t have had his little helper around the kitchen that morning, he might have been at a complete loss for where anything was. He was cooking breakfast, so most things he knew, but some were guided by the young boy sitting on the counter with a slice of toast in his mouth. Peter was somehow already awake when the German had made his way downstairs, although there was someone else missing from this little gathering in the kitchen, and that someone definitely didn’t have plans to wake up any time soon. 

Him and Arthur had gotten used to spending nights in the wine cellar, there they could be much louder than anywhere else in the house while Peter was sleeping, and since that first night, more drinking was expected. 

They hadn’t talked about it again. That kiss. Like it never happened, just back to normal again. Even if they drunk until he had to carry Arthur back upstairs, it didn’t happen again, and it wasn’t discussed at all. But Ludwig still felt it. Still felt himself being pulled into it, still felt the Englishman’s soft lips move against his own. And of course, he still felt it in his heart. His heart in fact leaped at any moment it might happen again, or if it crossed his mind again. How he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

For now, he had the breakfast he was making as a distraction. 

He wasn’t a fan of English sausages – or breakfasts. He’d never had one that he liked. Maybe it was just because it was so greasy and heavy for something in the morning, or maybe it was just the food in general. Even still, under Peter’s close instruction, he made what could be considered a full English breakfast and placed it nicely on a tray with some cutlery and two full mugs. 

“Do you want to take the orange juice?” he asked as he lifted the child off the counter. Peter nodded enthusiastically, reaching for it just out of his range. Ludwig handed it to him before picking up the tray and motioned for him to start heading up the stairs.  
“Be careful.” He warned as the child held the glass with both of his hands, looking around it to see where he was putting his feet. 

When they reached the door they needed to go through, Peter put the glass down on the carpet unsteadily. The uneven fibres causing it to almost spill had Ludwig not put his foot in it’s way. The door opened, and the child picked up his glass again, unaware that it had almost stained the carpet, and hurried himself inside. 

The room was dark, curtains drawn, but a distinct lump in the covers could be seen, one that was jolted awake by a child jumping on it.  
“Be gentle with him, Peter.” Ludwig joked, half scolding him as he carried the tray in.  
“I’m awake…” Arthur groaned, pulling himself up from under the covers and dragging the giggling child into his arms, “By some horrid twist of fate.”  
“Mmhm… I’m not surprised.” 

As he sat up, the tray’s legs were folded out and it was placed over his lap. His eyes lit up to as much of a degree as ones could when they’re only just opened. They squinted, however, when the curtains were opened.  
“I thought we were being gentle with me.” Arthur croaked,  
“You can’t eat if you can’t see.”  
“I can’t see.”  
“Stop being a baby. Move up.” Ludwig motioned, already seating himself on the bed and taking his coffee from the tray.  
“Oh I’m sorry, this _is_ my bed.” Despite the protests, he moved up a little, ending up nicely in the middle of his two new bed-mates. 

Peter was of course, very excited for the breakfast to be eaten, even if he’d had his own, he bragged about it confidently and how he had helped cook this one too. His brother listened with great interest, nodding and replying with how very impressed he was. Despite the enthusiasm, it was clear he was tired, almost overly so. He needed a little recovery time, and that was to be expected, but the excited child maybe wasn’t too helpful. 

Even still, he ate most of the food and drank his tea, slowly sinking back into the pillows, eyes drooping. Quietly, his hand slipped next to him, taking Ludwig’s loosely as he continued to listen. All the German could do in response was to hesitantly accept the laced fingers and sip his coffee without showing how pink his face was at just the simplest of actions. 

“Feeling any better after that?” He asked once he had finished the contents of his mug, desperate to get his mind off of the oddly affectionate position it was in. This, however, did exactly the opposite. Arthur gave a tired smile as he rubbed his eye, his hand giving a gentle squeeze to the one he held,  
“Yeah, definitely. Nothing like a good breakfast to cure a hangover.” 

They had left him to get dressed soon, and Ludwig took it upon himself to do the dishes, Peter sat on the island in the kitchen watching as he usually did, but he was quieter than usual – not that Ludwig didn’t love the peace. It was hard to answer the barrage of questions that always came his way, but he didn’t like this silence. 

“Are you alright over there, Peter?” He asked, placing a plate into the drying rack. He turned to see the boy with his head on the counter, face pale and a little groan escaping his throat. Immediately Ludwig hurried around the island, pulling off one of the yellow gloves he wore to press the back of his hand on the child’s head. 

“You too, huh?” He sighed, moving a little hair from his forehead, “you’re burning up… You want me to take you back to bed?”  
Peter nodded lightly, “Don’t feel well…”  
“You don’t look it. Wait there…” The German spoke gently, moving back to the sink to run some cold water and soak a cloth. He placed it on Peter’s head for a little while before pulling him into his arms. “Let’s get you back in your pyjamas…” 

With a little whimper of a agreement, Peter was carried up the stairs, just in time to meet his big brother on the landing.  
“What’s up?” Arthur frowned, stepping to one side to let them through,  
“He says he’s not feeling well.”  
“Oh no, poor thing…” The Englishman followed on, “God, he looks awful.”  
“He’s very hot.” Ludwig muttered, setting the child on his bed, looking frankly worse than he had in the kitchen. From here, he moved to get a pair of Peter’s pyjamas from the drawers while Arthur crouched in front of his little brother. 

“You alright, Peter?” He hushed, pressing his own hand to his head, “You poor thing.. You want some water?”  
The boy shook his head, body shaking,  
“You think you’re going to be sick?”  
He nodded, eyes welling up.  
Arthur cooed softly, pulling him up and towards the bathroom, “Hurry now, don’t want it on the floor, do we?” 

Evidentially, he had made it just in time, and as his small breakfast resurfaced into the toilet bowl, Arthur rubbed his back and kept his hair out of his face. “You’re alright, love… Lud? Could you get him a bowl and some water? I’ll get him dressed when he’s done.”  
The German nodded, leaving the pyjamas he’d picked out on the bed and hurrying down the stairs. 

He’d never had a younger brother, that was something he would remind himself of every day he had spent with Peter. He really didn’t know what he was doing, but he tried to remember what Gilbert would do for him if he was ill – which wasn’t often. In fact, he maybe got away with a cold or two from being outside in the rain for too long. So for today, it seemed that he would be following Arthur’s lead once again. 

Searching several cupboards, he finally found something that looked like an appropriate bowl under the sink. By how old and large it was, he felt it safe to assume it’s general use was to catch child vomit. Or maybe Arthur’s if he was drunk enough. He pushed it out of his mind, instead grabbing a cup full of cold water and headed back upstairs to find Peter dressed in his pyjamas, still a little shaky but looking a bit better after emptying his stomach. 

Arthur helped the boy into bed, tucking him in nicely with that cold cloth on his head. He smiled when he saw Ludwig, one that hid a lot of concern. “Thanks for getting that…” he spoke, still sitting on the bed with a hand on Peter, protective as ever. 

The bowl was set on the floor by the bed and the water on the table after the boy was given a few sips of it. With all the excitement of his sudden illness, his eyes started to droop and slip closed. The pair by him decided to let him sleep, with Arthur parting with a brotherly kiss to his forehead and an instruction to call for him if he was sick again, or if he just needed someone. The boy agreed sleepily, and they left him there, the door still open just a bit. 

“I guess that’s our day plans out of the window…” Arthur huffed, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from looking back to the door they had left his little brother behind.  
“It’s alright, as long as he’s okay. I’m not sure what happened, he was fine this morning.”  
The Englishman bit his lip, arms crossed, “He’s never been away from his land this long before…” 

As nations, it was normal to have a tie to their land, and being away from that land for too long never felt good. Ludwig winced as he thought about it, he’d felt that kind of pain before, remembered it pulling at his spine. So he too looked to the door, arms crossed,  
“You think it’s that?” he muttered,  
“We’re older.” Arthur sighed, “We can stay away for longer, way longer. He’s just a kid I… I should make some phone calls. Get him home.”  
“He’ll be okay. Let him rest for a while...”  
“I know I know. I will. I just… ugh.” 

It wasn’t common to see Arthur like this, and it certainly wasn’t comfortable. His concern seemed to overwhelm him to the point of restlessness, but an uncertainty of where to start. Ludwig sighed, he wasn’t very good at comforting people, he never had been. But he unfolded his arms and reached over, pulling the Englishman into a tight hug.  
“Calm down… he’s just a little unwell.”  
“I know…” Arthur accepted the hug, hands on the German’s chest as he was squeezed. 

He looked up, eyes a little teary, but he smiled, “Sorry. I guess I can never shake that parental instinct, huh?”  
“I don’t think it’s something you have to shake.” Ludwig smiled back, “How about I cook something tonight?”  
“You cooked this morning.”  
“I know. But I’ll make you something – and something light for him.”  
“I don’t think I have much in the fridge…”  
“I’ll go shopping then.” Without thinking, his arms tightened around the Englishman again in a display of reassurance. 

Arthur’s eyes softened as his hand reached up, cupping the German’s cheek. His hand was still a little damp from wetting the cloth again, but he still brushed his thumb over the skin he found, leaving a cool trail,  
“You’re really good with him, you know that?”  
Ludwig frowned, but kept his smile, “What do you mean?”  
“Answering his questions, carrying him upstairs, letting him help make breakfast… you’re really good with him. It’s nice…”  
“Nice…” Ludwig fumbled for words, almost melting into that hand on his cheek despite how cold it was against his skin. His heart flipped in his chest. This was nice, he could stay here forever if it were possible. 

Slowly, the gap closed between them as Arthur moved up, a short lived kiss planted on the other’s mouth, testing if he was allowed. He was, and Ludwig made sure to let him know now by pushing back, kissing him for longer, and making sure this time to savour it. 

“Why now…?” he breathed as they parted, though it came out a lot harsher than he had expected, “It’s been a week since you first kissed me.”  
“Don’t know. Wasn’t sure if you wanted it.”  
“I do… I think I’ve wanted to for a while.”  
Arthur grinned, pushing another kiss against his lips, “Then I’ll be sure to kiss you as much as I can…” 

Before they could stand there and kiss for another hour, as much as both of them would enjoy it, Arthur pulled away, tapping the German’s chest, “We should head to the shops. They close early today…”  
“I see. I’ll think of something to make. Do you think one of us should stay with him though?”  
Arthur looked around again at the door, spying through the crack his little brother sleeping soundly, “you’re right.. I don’t want him to wake up and no one be home.”  
“It’s alright, I’ll go.”  
“Are you sure?” He turned back, “You can take my card or I have cash somewhere..”  
“No it’s fine. My treat.”  
The Englishman sighed, one in playful defeat, “Alright. Take my key though.”

It had taken a lot for him to break away from that embrace, but soon, Ludwig found himself in the nearest supermarket, a basket slowly filling with groceries and a heart full to bursting. He wasn’t convinced in himself that this meant anything, inside he was still questioning if this was real or some kind of dream. He felt silly. But that might just be the fuzzy feeling in his head every time he thought about it. This really was it. If you didn’t count Feli pressuring him into spin the bottle, this was his first real _thing._

And now he would be cooking for them. As usual, he was going for something restrained – yet somehow Feli came to mind. One of his recipes would do perfectly, since Ludwig had managed to memorise the ones he could that had actual measurements and not just the Italian throwing whatever into a pot and it somehow coming out edible, he felt he could replicate at least one. So he picked up the pack of dried penne from the shelf and quietly muttered his apologies to his friend who was probably turning in his sheets at the thought of pre-packaged pasta. 

Once he had gathered his ingredients, he walked to the next aisle, this one full of toys and children’s gifts. He would have passed it had one thing not caught his eye, something he was sure would make Peter feel just a little better. He picked up the plush seagull in it’s little sailor hat and shirt and threw it in his basket, hoping it wouldn’t be odd to give him a little gift. 

Soon, he was on his way home, shielding the little stuffed bird in his coat against the now pouring rain as he fought against the wind. 

 

Dinner had been a success, Peter had been put to bed, now cuddling the toy he had been overjoyed to receive. He had looked much better, managing to force down a few bites of pasta before going back to sleep. 

Ludwig had sat himself on the sofa to watch some TV while Arthur cleaned up. He would have helped if he wasn’t ushered out of the kitchen by an insistent Brit. Apparently if he had gone through the trouble of cooking, he was not allowed to clean up, and that was Arthur’s job as repayment. He wasn’t entirely complaining, but he couldn’t help but feel a little useless on the sofa just watching the TV without paying much attention to it. Whatever was playing seemed trashy anyway, needless drama disguised as entertainment, really wasn’t his thing.

Luckily, he wasn’t subjected to it for too long as Arthur hopped over the back of the sofa to land beside him. Some conversation to drown it out might be helpful. 

The Englishman gave a heavy sigh, sinking into the cushions and leaning on the man next to him, “Tiring taking care of that kid.”  
“Really? He seemed better to me.”  
“He is, just a little bit. Still, I’d rather he was home so I don’t have to do it all.”  
“You don’t mean that.” Ludwig’s lips tugged at a smile, oh how easy it was to see through that. It was far too late to try and pull the façade of not caring.  
Arthur looked at the German with a mock glare, “What do I mean then?”  
“You want him home-”  
“That’s what I said.”  
“- so he feels better. Because you’re concerned.”  
There was a pause as the Englishman raised an eyebrow, then pushed himself under the other man’s arm, “Don’t look so smug about it.”  
“I’m right, I think I have reason to be smug.”  
“Shut up, Kraut.”  
“Limey.” 

The insults were met with smiles and laughter, but kept coming, even as Arthur reached up with the goal of shutting up the German with kisses. But, Ludwig threw all of the ones he could think of that were mildly British centred until he was practically tackled onto his back. He laughed as he was practically pinned down, knowing he could fight this off properly any second, but the kisses stopped as Arthur looked down at him, smile softer, slightly out of breath. 

“What?” Ludwig asked, a hand over his mouth,  
“Your laugh is really cute.”  
Ah, there it was. He stopped, heat rising above his collar quickly. How could something so easy leave him so lost for words, he could barely mutter a thank you before the hand over his mouth was moved and replaced with another kiss. This time was different from the others, it wasn’t accompanied by a smile or a joke, it didn’t even feel like their first one, there was a different romance there. A romance that included a tongue and a nervous German who didn’t know where to put his hands, but he kissed back to the best of his ability. 

For a while, neither could get enough, only until Arthur pulled away to kiss the other’s jaw did he speak, out of breath and cheeks flushed, “Can I touch you?” He asked, hand hovering over the gap left between the waist band of Ludwig’s trousers and his t-shirt that had hiked up. How it was possible for him to blush harder was a mystery, but he definitely felt the blood rush to more than just his face. The words didn’t come out of his mouth, causing the other to pause,  
“You can say no.”  
“N-no..! I mean. Yes.. y-yes you can.” He cleared his throat, eyes averted. He was worried for a moment that this wouldn’t continue, but that cold hand slipped under his shirt, pushing a shaky breath out of him as he tried to calm himself down. Kisses left their trails over his neck and throat as he swallowed, eyes closed and brow knitted. 

“Can I take this off?” Arthur tugged at the seem of his shirt, moving up one more time to push his lips against the German’s, who was left very much breathless. The sudden realisation that he had actually never done this before. Never this far, a bit of kissing and heavy petting, but he’d kept his clothes on, and it never lasted. But as he opened his eyes, staring into Arthur’s own, he nodded, almost excited. Still didn’t know what to do with his hands exactly, but he would follow the Englishman’s lead. 

The shirt was pulled over his head, a quick, deep kiss pushed into him before Arthur pulled away to look over him with hungry eyes. The German wanted to laugh, and his amusement was met with a grin and a pair of hands on him, immediately exploring over his chest as Arthur once again came down to kiss him. His hands found place on the Englishman’s face and hair, gladly accepting the attention he was given. 

Arthur’s hands stroked down, pulling the German’s hips against his own. They were eager, and slowly, Ludwig could feel himself relaxing against the Brit, even moving down to try tug his own shirt from him. 

A small voice sounded from somewhere behind the sofa, somewhere by the stairs, tired and croaky, “Arthur… I threw up again.”  
“Peter!” Arthur sat up quickly, throwing on the most innocent grin he could. The pair’s activity was luckily shielded by the back of the sofa, but that didn’t stop Ludwig from clapping his hand over him mouth to stifle a snort of laughter. It wasn’t funny. Not like he had been caught in a compromising position at all. He was just glad he wasn’t seen. Instead, Arthur cleared his throat,  
“Head back upstairs, Okay? I’ll come clean it up in just a moment…” Oh a moment indeed. 

Peter nodded slowly and started back up the stairs. Once he was fully out of sight, Arthur whipped his head back to the man under him, who by now could no longer hold in the laughter.  
“The hell are you laughing about?” He hissed playfully, adding a light smack to the arm,  
“Nothing! Sorry.”  
“Bastard… You’re lucky you’re cute.” One more time, he leant down to kiss him, softer this time, “You’re not getting away from me that easily.”  
“Are you not going to help your little brother?” Ludwig teased,  
“Shut uup…”  
Before he could get far too into this kiss, the German pushed him up, “Go on. Go help him... I’ll be up in a minute.”  
“Oh I think you were quite up already.”  
another playful shove, “Go.”

With some reluctance and a groan, Arthur finally climbed over the German and straightened himself out to hurry up the stairs, leaving Ludwig shirtless and still buzzing from the experience. 

Eventually he managed to sit himself up and grab his shirt again with a deep sigh. He had to take his mind off of it for a while, so with the shirt in hand, he quickly went to the sink to splash some cold water on his face. How long had they been playing this game and he was already so willing to give himself away like that? Not that it wasn’t enjoyable; his skin still tingled with traces of those hands against him, but was it too much? These thoughts would have to be swept aside for a while until he got to bed – to sleep. Maybe stare into that mirror above his bed for a while and overthink. 

He put his shirt back on and started upstairs, thinking he might sneak away and crash in bed for the rest of the night, despite how early it was. This changed when he passed Peter’s room, hearing the soft singing of Arthur’s voice. He was curious, so carefully, Ludwig peered his head around the door, heart melting at the sight of the pair. 

Arthur sat on the bed in front of his little brother, singing a nursery rhyme while acting out the movements. Peter, while tired and sick, still followed along, the little seagull sat on his lap.  
“Peter Rabbit has a fly upon his nose. Peter Rabbit has a fly upon his nose. Peter Rabbit has a fly upon his nose. And he flipped it, and he flapped it, and the fly flew away...” He sung to the child, a sight Ludwig never thought he would see. 

He didn’t go unnoticed, if not only by the child at first.  
“I hope I didn’t interrupt...” he admitted when all eyes turned to him,  
“Not at all.” Arthur smiled, “We were about to read a story.” As he said it, it was clear there was some embarrassment there. Why he felt the need to hide this side of him was a real mystery.  
“I want Ludwig to read!” For a child who was just sick, Peter seemed oddly excited at the idea.  
“If he’s okay with that…”  
“Yes, of course.” Ludwig cleared his throat, stepping fully into the room. 

“Alright then,” Arthur stood, stepping towards the bookcase nearby his litter brother’s bed, “What story do we want today?”  
“The Walrus and the Carpenter.” His little brother spoke in a funny voice, holding up his seagull as if it was the one talking. He then looked at it and nodded, “I think so too, Mr Sully.”  
“Sully?” Ludwig smiled as he sat down on the bed, “You’ve named him already?”  
“Mmhm! I name all my toys. At home I have Lord Albus the Albatross and Captain Seabasstian, and Perry Pelican is my first mate! We all have our own ship, the HMS Alice.”  
The German raised his eyebrows, both endeared and impressed, “That’s very creative of you.”  
“It’s because he demands so many stories.” Arthur spoke, an amused huff leaving him as he climbed onto one side of the bed, “C’mon then, lets get this one done.” 

It was less of a story and more of a poem, a long one, that Peter knew very well, even as he curled up against his brother, eyes slipping closed, he muttered along with the words and rhymes until he could no longer stay awake. The older men slipped away as quietly as they could, tiptoeing around the room before closing the door and letting go of the breath they held. 

“Should be fine for the night, don’t you think?” Arthur muttered, his voice low enough to only be heard by the man next to him,  
“We’ll keep an eye on him. You’re just opposite and I’m just through the bathroom, he’s not going to be far from help if he’s sick again.”  
“Which one of us is closer do you think?”  
“Probably you, I have to go through the bathroom. Why?” Ludwig looked to the Englishman with a tired frown as his forearm was taken,  
“Can you um.. sleep with me? Not in the way like on the sofa. Just… sleep in the same bed. So we can both get up for him.” It was an odd request, and by the look on Arthur’s face, it was one he was hesitant to make, but the German relaxed, nodding,  
“Alright. I’ll just go get changed, then I’ll come back to you.”  
“Thank you…”  
And they parted, if not just for a little while. 

He had been in Arthur’s room before of course, he was there that morning, but sleeping there was a whole different level, and soon he was questioning as he brushed his teeth and gathered his discarded clothes to put in the wash bin. Perhaps it didn’t help that for the winter, his pyjamas were little more than a vest and some shorts. Whatever the weather, he was always too warm at night, and he hoped it wasn’t too skimpy – if that was the appropriate word. He had nothing else, so he grabbed a pillow and slowly made his way to Arthur’s bedroom, heart going irrationally crazy in his chest. It was just a bed. Just sleeping. 

The room – much like the other rooms in the house, was well decorated, and decorated specifically in a way that seemed just so very _Arthur._  
It was warm with a few scattered house plants and dark woods, red sheets and drawn curtains, and in the bed, Arthur himself sat, glasses on and a book in hand as the very old looking lamp next to him illuminated the room. 

“I thought you wanted to sleep.” Ludwig commented as he entered, placing his pillow on the side of the bed he had decided to claim. The Englishman barely looked up,  
“I know, just wanted to distract myself for a bit.”  
“Mmhm.” He had to admit, he was tired himself, so he just climbed into the bed, flopping down onto his pillow. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, breaking away from his book, “You’re tired?”  
“Yes..”  
The book closed and a hand reached over, brushing some of the now loose hair from the German’s eyes, “Ah, fine.. I’ll turn off the light.” 

He didn’t pay much attention to it turning off, but he was very conscious of the body next to him, covered in a stifling flannel that locked in heat. Ludwig huffed, already feeling the uncomfortable heat against him. Perhaps it was his tired brain not thinking, as soon as he’d laid onto that bed he knew sleep was well on it’s way, but he grumbled anyway, reaching over to pull up the flannel shirt from Arthur’s form.  
“Hey! What are you doing?” The smaller man protested quietly, pushing it down again, “I thought we were just sleeping?”  
“It’s hot.”  
“Well yeah. I get cold, that’s what it’s for. Unless you mean the other kind of hot.”  
“No..” Barely paying attention, he lifted the shirt again, wrapping his arms around him, “You’re cold. I’m hot.”  
“…um, your point is?”  
“I heat you. You cool me… Thermodynamic Equilibrium.”  
“And why can’t that happen while I’m clothed?” the flustered annoyance seemed to have shifted to amusement as he listened,  
“Science.”  
“Oh science is it? Not just an excuse to get my clothes off?”  
“do you feel warm with me holding you?”  
“w…well yeah.”  
“And my arms are cool. Otherwise it’s too hot here…” Ludwig muttered, eyes closed, “So take it off.”  
“Fine… just the shirt. I’m not that easy.”  
“Could have fooled me.”  
“Fuck off.” Arthur rolled his eyes as he pulled the shirt over his head while the German gave a smug smile that faded when his vest was tugged at,  
“What are you doing?”  
“Why do I have to have my shirt off? If you’re little theory is true, then it needs to be skin to skin, right?”  
He paused, “You’re right.” And he tugged it off, chucking it to one side, “Happy?”  
“More than you’ll ever know.” 

With a tut, he pulled the Englishman against him, delighted to feel something cold over his skin. And Arthur in turn, was overjoyed to have what was basically a hot-water bottle but human sized and covered in muscle holding him. Their quiet happiness just to be against each other lasted well into the night as they both slept soundly, comfortably, in each others arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys know I love writing Peter? did you know how much fun I had naming his toys? I love that boy. 
> 
> not much historical stuff in this one because it's just pure fluff and a lil bit of almost smut lmao. the only thing I can say is that the equilibrium heat thing? absolutely true and I have a source and also it's just really cute. 
> 
> more coming soon because I love my lads and also there will be more to this fic than domestic fluff I promise.


End file.
